


Unity

by kaliforniabird



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-06 17:07:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1109379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaliforniabird/pseuds/kaliforniabird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Monster...the word was one of the lowest insults one could give. It suggested a lack of humanity. It suggested that you were a common beast, no better than scum, selfish. A true demon.</p><p>Eleven years after the defeat of Pitch Black, everything seems to be going great. Jamie Bennett is all grown up, with Sophie close behind. The siblings are having the time of their lives with their childhood friend, the legendary Jack Frost. That is, until Jack returns after one summer away, proclaiming his loyalty to Pitch and threatening to kill Sophie. What he wants is Jamie to release his Guardianship...but why?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Deep Down

The cold was tangible in her room. It was sharp and steely, knifing through her blankets and sapping the warmth from her.

 _This is ridiculous,_ she thought. _It’s so cold in here I’m shaking._

Sophie forced her eyes to open, still sticky with sleep, and sit up. The golden dream sand had long since ceased dancing in the air above her, a fact which left her feeling slightly irritated. She hadn’t had a good dream like that for a long while.

She pushed the quilted covers back, her heavily-lidded eyes scanning the darkness, not quite used to the light yet.

It could not be the man who lived in the shadows and all that was lightless. Her pleasant dreams had been proof enough that he had not visited tonight. And while it was true that on occasion the man of darkness would visit her and let her sleep soundly on a small whim, lulling her into a false sense of security in this way, Sophie knew that this twilit night was not one of those times.

The man under her bed, in her closet, in the dim corners of her room, in her very own shadow, held a presence about him that was reminiscent of spilt ink on white clothes—it clung uncomfortably to your skin, bleeding onto your flesh while sullying your outfit.

She couldn’t feel a presence like that at the moment, a thought which left her feeling both thankful and anxious. Who else could it be that would visit her?

She had an answer. The man of her nightmares did not make the air frigid with cold. He brought a cloying, thick humidity that threatened to choke her each time he came.

No, the only one who would make her room this cold was the boy of her dreams—a boy of the beautiful, white pureness and ice, a sort of opposite to the man of the pitch black.

But Sophie would not voice her suspicions outright, aloud. She refused to hope.

But still, it had been a long time since she had seen Jack last.

Slowly, Sophie eased herself out of bed, her muscles still languid from sleep. Snatching up a spare blanket from the bed and wrapping it about her shoulders to keep from freezing, she tiptoed lightly across her bedroom floor so as not to awaken her family.

She flinched whenever an old rickety floorboard creaked. She would pause, holding her breath unwittingly, listening intently into the quiet darkness. Only after a minute or two of noiselessness would she then take up her sleuthing once more.

The blonde squinted her eyes against the dark, scrutinizing the shadows tucked away in the corners, hoping to catch a glimpse of his trademark white hair or a passing snowflake or something of that sort.

While it was a rare thing, it certainly wouldn’t be unusual for the mischievous teenager that happened to control their snow days and ice storms and had a reputation for “nipping” peoples’ noses to visit his two very first believers at the Bennett house. That is, Jamie and Sophie Bennett.

 Jack did visit them on occasion, though he seemed to prefer meeting outside in his element in a spur-of-the-moment. He became bored easily trapped inside in a house like theirs, so visits to their home were kept to a minimum, but that kept each trip special, she thought.

It was because of this very mentality that exactly ten months ago, Jack had accidentally wandered into her room while she’d been sleeping and had woken her up, thinking it was Jamie.

Sophie could laugh now at the incident, but at the time she’d been scared senseless. He’d unknowingly woken her up in the middle of REM sleep, and her being quite prone to sleep paralysis thanks to the man of her nightmares, Sophie had had an episode.

Jack’s form had become obscured with a new monstrous one. Or rather, it had been superimposed over him, her mind garbling his image as it fought to process its surroundings in the gloom.

His face contorted, his smile peeling back and tearing away up to his ears, revealing razor-sharp shark teeth. The whites of his eyes bled black, the irises burning to a brassy-nickel like two shiny coins that glinted in the dark. His pupils turned to reptile-like slits. Parts of his skin scraped away in black twisting gouges that left behind eerie bone-deep wounds. His white hair was black, and he had a pallor like that of a dead man’s.

It had been horrifying, hearing her name spoken by him, the sound distorted to a deep, maleficent howl by her brain.

He had started to approach her, and this being the breaking point, Sophie had screamed with a shrillness that had made the whole house shudder as the walls vibrated with the sound.

Even once Jamie had found his way into her room, woken by her shrieks, the vision had not ended. Jamie’s body was morphed to that of a grotesque creature with large black empty eye-sockets and a gaping black maw. She had only been able to calm down when she’d blinked a few times, gaining control of her body and her senses in gradual time as her brother hung back, learning that it was best to keep his distance from her until the nightmare had run its course.

When she’d cried his name, Jamie had surged forward and hugged her tight enough to squeeze her heaving lungs into submission. There had been tears in her eyes as she’d buried her face into her big brother’s shirt.

Their mother had dashed to her room, storming up the stairs with hurried, thunderous steps, shouting for Jamie and Sophie. She hadn’t seen Jack, who sulked in the corner of the room. She only saw her son soothing his little sister from another one of her frequent nightmares.

After offering up her usual sigh of relief, half-hearted scolding, and talk of possibly getting Sophie a counselor and her daughter’s obligatory denials and reassuring smiles, their mother left for bed once she had her children’s word to go to bed soon and get some sleep.

Following a minute or so of being reassured on both sides, Jack had pulled away from his corner and explained with a somewhat surly attitude that he’d come to see them, but had accidentally wandered into Sophie’s room. He had chosen to wake her up anyways, seeing as it was somewhat pointless to go to Jamie’s room and backtrack. He hadn’t known Sophie would “freak out on him,” as he put in his own indignant words.

Jamie had teased Jack then, understanding without any actual physically exchanged words that Jack had been worried sick for Sophie at her wailing and terrified face that had stared unseeingly straight at him.

To his credit, the winter spirit had apologized afterwards. At the time, he’d come to say good-bye to her and Jamie. He had thought he had slipped into her brother’s bedroom and had been embarrassed when he’d realized he was, in fact, in Sophie’s. His hope had been to wake Jamie, who would then go and wake her all neat and convenient-like and without fuss. The color in his cheeks had deepened as he explained that it felt improper to sneak into a girl’s room in the middle of the night without a chaperone of some sort.

Jack was strange that way. Sophie had just figured it was an old-fashioned courtesy that came with the boy’s centuries-old upbringing of not thinking it “polite” to see her in her possibly explicit (“you never know” he’d said) bedclothes. They all three had later laughed it off with jokes of Jack’s old age and being behind the times.

She had even invited Jack to come visit her again sometime after giving him her timid assurance that it was quite all right for him to see her alone if he wanted, though she hadn’t really seen hair nor hide of him since that fateful April night when he’d left for the summer.

 _Maybe he’s come back,_ Sophie thought, eyes peeled for the silhouette of a shepherd’s crook. Vacant shadows and soundlessness met her stare.

There was nothing there.

It really had only been a draft from her window.

Sophie silently chided herself, quietly pulling her window shut and latching it before turning on the ball of her foot like a dancer to prance off to her bed and curl up under the blankets and fall asleep once more.

Or at least, that’s what she’d been planning to do.

She hadn’t even come as far as taking a step forward. As soon as she turned, she came face-to-face with a chest clothed in a dark sweatshirt frosted with filigree ice patterns. Taking a clumsy step back, she saw that there was more to the taller figure—it had the long, lanky legs of a model and bare feet. He held a shepherd’s hook in one hand; the other was outstretched in offer of her own.

“Is that you, Jack?” Sophie whispered.

The figure stepped out from the shadows, and indeed, he bore a striking resemblance to the Guardian of Fun she’d known most of her life in his features and stature, but somehow, in her heart, she knew that this wasn’t the Jack Frost she’d grown up with. He was someone entirely different, though it wasn’t obvious just in this boy’s black hair and molten silver-gold eyes that looked as if they were trying to burn a hole through her. It was in his very demeanor that left her leery of him. His smirk was contemptuous and the look in his eyes was predatorial, like she was something he was going to eat for lunch. There was no kindness in his expression, and the next words that came out of his mouth exuded a sense of threat.

“You really shouldn’t leave your window open like that.”

Sophie tripped on her own feet as she anxiously backed away from him. Her body fell back against her will and better judgment, adrenaline already shooting through her system and sending her into fight-or-flight mode.

Ragged, unadulterated fear shone in her eyes as she felt herself free-falling through the air, with nothing in between her and the floor. Her breath left her as her lungs froze in shock. She couldn’t scream. This was worse than her sleep paralysis. This was her real fear—her phobia. She waited for the painful impact of her head smashing and rebounding against the hard ground and the bruising crash of her tailbone, hips, and elbows.

It never came.

Sophie felt herself suspended, cradled securely in winter-personified’s chilly embrace.

The shock of finding herself in Jack’s arms only added more tempo to her jack-hammering heart, her pupils dilating to three times their normal size. Oxygen found her again as it rushed down her windpipe and filled her lungs once more. Her breath came in short bursts as she stared up into those smoldering eyes, paralyzed like a deer caught in the headlights.

Jack’s laugh sounded wrong to her ringing ears. It was dark and bitter like a bark, and Sophie flinched from the foreignness of it.

This was definitely worse than her sleep paralysis, or even the falling for that matter. Because _this was real._ Her nightmares were real now. They’d been brought to life, a totally contradictory concept from the “just bad dreams” philosophy she’d been raised to believe in. The false security of it shattered and crashed down around her in a thousand million pieces.

* * *

 

She had turned away, unseeing of his presence in the corner. She had frowned with disappointment, not knowing he was there, watching her, angry at the fact that she had not noticed him, though some part of him knew he should have blamed Pitch’s shadows for doing their work too well.

It hadn’t sat right with him. If he had one pet peeve, it was being ignored like he didn’t exist.

He’d sought to change that, propelling himself forward to stand just a hair’s breadth behind her, hoping to gain her attention very quickly that way.

Jack stared down at her blonde head, noting that she was still short for her age of thirteen years. She appeared younger physically in comparison to him, a boy just short of being a man. He was so close to touching her petite form. _He wanted to—_

Sophie moved then, automatically fulfilling his wishful thinking as she whirled around to go to bed.

And the consequences had been very real.

Sophie crashed into him gently, her exclamation of surprise muffled by the thick cloth of his sweater, her lips barely grazing him as they moved. Her voice vibrated against his sternum, a warm gasp tumbling out and seeping into his skin just beneath the surface of his hoodie like a puff of dragon’s breath, making him tingle with sensation.

Sophie pushed herself away from him, taking her heat with her, the terror entering her spring-green eyes as she took him in. She was trembling, he noted with something like half-amusement and half-dismay.

The small teen stumbled in her quick back-walking, gravity taking the light weight of her body down with quick and easy work. She lurched backward, arms raking the air furiously, fighting to keep her ground with little success. She was falling, falling…

_Jack, I’m really scared of falling. It really hurts._

He remembered the bruised shins, the scraped knees, the raw elbows, the split hands. He remembered them more clearly than most memories.

He remembered his pledge, one he always kept and always would intend to, no matter what.

_I promise I won’t ever let you fall, Sophie._

He saw the critical terror in her pleading eyes.

Jack found himself holding her, cradling her in his arms just like he used to when she was younger. There was a new meaning to his gesture, though, now. He looked at her, just looked at her for what she was—a girl.

Sophie’s hair was just as untidy as when she was little and cut it herself. He took brief observation of the gold earrings she wore before perceiving the smudged makeup underneath her eyes and remnants of mascara still clinging to her eyelashes, making her large green eyes seem to jump out. While she looked plenty pretty without it, it still emphasized her beauty to a new degree that he found entrancing.

He pressed closer to her, feeling her warmth leech from her and to him. It was intoxicating—her warmth—her scent of laundry detergent, her soap, her lingering flower perfume— _her._

But he quickly stopped himself.

For a moment—for just a moment—he’d felt her heat stir something in him. Her warmth had distilled the empty coldness, if only for just a moment, one particle of a second.

He’d felt.

But the feeling quickly faded.

* * *

 

“People like me might find a way in, you know,” he said, sniggering at her newfound fear of him. His eyes were hungry, gauging her every move and holding her gaze intensely.

Sophie was almost hyperventilating now. He just kept leaning in closer and closer to her, and the closer he got, the more reasons that came into her head why she should run, that this wasn’t her friend Jack. This boy was toying with her, she reasoned. She was paralyzed, a frightened little rabbit caught in the death-grip of the jaws of a wolf, powerless, vulnerable. It was as if he’d frozen her with his winter magic, but in a way that sapped the very strength from her bones. She couldn’t move, couldn’t save herself even if she tried.

He had caught her from her fall only to imprison her in her own body.

“Aw, come on, Soph, don’t tell me you’re _afraid_ of me, _are you?_ ” Jack leered, leaning in so far that his black bangs grazed her forehead, earning a shiver from the small girl.

His whole being was radiating cold and dominance. The boy who was winter-incarnate was draining the heat right out of her, leaving her only his low body temperature to quiver with pitifully. He emanated power. _I am the alpha,_ he seemed to silently say to her as he towered over her on those extensive legs of his. And with that power, she felt her chances of survival slowly slipping away.

“Sophie?”

Her bedroom lights suddenly flicked on. Standing in her doorway was her older brother Jamie, his hand hovering on the light-switch on the wall next to him. His brown eyes narrowed as he mentally processed the scene before him.

“Jack?” Jamie asked, his voice skeptical. Cautious. “Is that you? What’s going on here? Where’ve you been?”

* * *

 

He might as well have fun in this position he put himself in.

Sure, it had started out innocently enough. He’d lost control for a second. But now he had a handle on himself, and he needed to justify this suddenly awkward moment.

Besides, Jack had seen the doubt and urgently aware fear in her face. There was panic in her stance, even as he had disregarded all thoughts of the darkness inside him telling him to wreak havoc on her.

_Make her screech. Make her writhe in agony. Let her feel the pain you have felt. Make her suffer as you have._

The voices constantly whispered in his ear, their incessant hushed snarls speaking from the very depths of his anger and hurt. They were hard to ignore as it was. It was impossible to deny those impulses when Sophie only fueled the resentment burning in him.

It was worse than being ignored. Being feared for a crime he hadn’t committed? It left a bitter taste in his mouth. He didn’t deserve that, he thought. His disappointment and rage were roiling in him. He had a purpose there, one that would exact his vengeance on this girl who made him _feel_ unwelcome things—things that were of no use to him and only plunged him further into the darkness.

He swallowed the sour taste on his tongue and welcomed it. He let it slowly consume him in all its acerbity reminiscent of his reason for being there. It reminded him of his mission.

He had a job to do.

The room abruptly brightened into focus as a finger found a switch to the outlet, illuminating the walls and floor with relative clarity.

Jack blinked, his eyes glancing briefly at the ceiling. It seemed Sophie had redecorated since he’d last visited.

In place of an overhead lamp, the faux exposed rafters had been wrapped with white Christmas lights that put off a buttery glow, flaring to life as Jamie flipped the light-switch on. They looked like stars if he squinted.

Her walls were also painted a different color: a pastel, mellow tea green. In place of the butterflies that had decorated the walls since she’d been an infant were lovely photos and respectable drawings, garlands of what consisted largely of origami flowers and birds (amongst other things) and one large ornament in the shape of a tree that took up one whole wall. Glass orbs hung alongside the holiday string lights, some tinted with colors that threw rainbows on the floor and walls like watercolor, thin and wavering. A bookshelf stood guard in one corner. The only familiar aspect of the room was the stuffed animals and plush toys pushed in a haphazard pile on her bed. He thought he spied a bunny rabbit before he rested his eyes on the boy standing in the doorway.

He shouldn’t have been surprised at the room’s transformation. Jack had been away for a long while, and the whimsical decorations befitted her. Sophie was quite poetic by nature.

But Jack still felt a little…left out, you could say. Seeing so much change in his absence. So many things had been altered while he was gone. They had picked up and moved on without his consent, without his knowledge, without _him._ It was as if he hadn’t even mattered in the first place.

Something black coiled in his gut at the thought.

* * *

 

“Oh, nothing,” Jack responded casually. “I was just saying hello to your sister here. Been a long time, hasn’t it? Well, now that you’re here and we’re reunited and all, let’s get this party started.”

Sophie hadn’t yet comprehended what had happened until Jack spoke again, vaguely registering that his cold hands and arms had shifted on her. She was dazed, in a shell-shock state of full-blown disbelief.

Because _no, no, no, no, no. This_ wasn’t _Jack. Not her Jack. This wasn’t Jack…_

It _couldn’t_ be.

The memories came unbidden to her, of all the times this silver-haired boy had given her a sad face at her tears and desperately tried to make her laugh through them, of all the times he’d caught her from falling and steadied her on her feet, of all the times he’d let her sit in his lap criss-cross applesauce as she learned to read her very first books. Jack Frost, the boy who was a distant friend, who came to visit as often as he could, always with a smile on his face and a joke or prank in mind. The only boy outside of her immediate family whom she could trust. Silly, playful boy who was full of life and light and laughter and fun. Who was kind and understanding like the other kids weren’t.

Her stomach twisted like she needed to puke.

Because never would, never _could_ this Jack that was like another brother, whom she grew up with, a boy she’d known her whole life—as long as her mother or Jamie—never could he betray her like this.

Her mind rebelled at the very idea of Jack’s possible treachery. It shut down, blocking out the hurt, drowning itself in denial.

It left her feeling hollow, knowing she was lying to herself.

Jack was a traitor, and his next words would only serve to further prove the indisputable fact of it.

* * *

 

“Alright, don’t make any sudden moves or your sister gets frozen like a permanent human-popsicle. Understood? I need to talk to you about a few things, kid.”

Jamie gulped, visibly shaken at this unanticipated turn of events. Sophie couldn’t say she blamed him. It was a tough pill to swallow, seeing your best friend holding your sister hostage.

However, the man soon recovered. His eyes narrowed dangerously at Jack in what Sophie knew was the look he used to give bullies at school that instantly told them to _back off before I throttle you._ His feet otherwise remained rooted to the ground in cooperation as he soundlessly willed Jack to explain himself.

Jack chuckled as he took in Jamie’s demeanor. “See, here’s the deal,” he said, finally deeming it satisfying to take up his talk once more. “I need you to release me of my Guardian’s Oath, Jamie.”

Jamie looked in bewilderment at Jack. “What?”

“Oh, Jamie, Jamie,” Jack scoffed, shaking his head. Sophie and Jamie simultaneously tensed as Jack let his hand fall on Sophie’s head, however relaxed as he merely tenderly ruffled her choppy blonde hair. “Silly Jamie. You remember, right? You’re my first believer. You should count yourself lucky. You have the honor of releasing me. See, it goes like this—the only ones who can take away my Guardianship are the other Guardians themselves. But tried that road,” Jack amended, looking down at his fingernails with disinterest before polishing them on his sweatshirt and peering back up at Jamie. “Didn’t really turn out. I did try to persuade them, oh, trust me, did I try to persuade them. But try as I might, they didn’t seem to really see my side of things. There’s another way, though. And that way involves you, Jamie.

“I need you to renounce my oath willingly. Of free choice, that sort of thing. So what do you say, kid? Will you do it?”

Jamie’s brow was furrowed, his brown eyes seeming to chase an idea around in his head, trying to catch it without much success. His lips were pursed in a frown as he glared at his used-to-be friend and mentor. “And what if I say no?”

Jack’s grin only seemed to grow wider—and more deranged. His golden eyes glowed with a crazed light that sparked across the room and straight to Jamie’s core.

“Then, I’ll just have to deep-freeze your sister,” he said pleasantly. At Jamie’s look, Jack pressed on. “Is that what you want, Jamie? For your sister to die, all because you couldn’t make a simple decision? What kind of a pathetic older brother are you?”  
“Why are you doing this? What happened to you, Jack?! This isn’t you!” Jamie begged his former idol and hero. He was frantic for a logical answer that would let him explain away all of the indefensible things Jack had done thus far. He wanted an excuse to forgive his childhood friend.

Black laughter peeled from Jack’s white lips. “You’re right, Jamie. This is the new me,” Jack said soberly. “And the new me works with Pitch now. He offers power and a place to rule by his side when this world is fully taken over and the Guardians are overthrown. I can achieve this by getting rid of that useless Guardianship that only keeps me from my untapped potential. By getting rid of my oath, you are releasing me and unleashing a whole new power, one never seen by the likes of this world before. And I need you to do it.

“But like I said, it needs to be of your own free choice. I’ll give you time to think on it.” Jack pulled back from Sophie, releasing her. “For now, you’re free to go.”

The girl took a step forward, ready to sprint into her brother’s arms. But a hand closed around her bicep and yanked her back.

“Oh, and one gift before I go,” Jack said, sliding his hand down to her own palm and bringing her hand to his face. He kissed her left ring finger tenderly before letting go.

At first, nothing happened. Then Sophie screamed out in agony and collapsed to the ground, clutching her hand to her chest in pain as a thin layer of crystalline black ice encased her finger.

Jamie ran to her, his gaze smoldering with loathing and mistrust as he addressed Jack. “You said you’d leave her alone!”

Jack licked his index finger and held it up like a schoolteacher. “No, my dear Jamie, I said you were free to go. I never said anything about hurting anyone. You’ve forced my hand, and now I force yours. By the end of the week, my ice will reach Sophie’s heart and stop it, instantly killing her. No amount of heat will melt it without bringing harm to her. Bring me your answer by the end of the week, or she dies. You’ll find me wherever Pitch is.” He paused, seeming to contemplate something. He directed his attention to Sophie, who was curled up in a ball on the floor, sparsely shielded by her brother’s arms. Jack smirked. “Interesting, isn’t it, how they say that the ring finger holds the only blood vessel that leads to a direct path to your heart? Oddly fitting, I think.”

The winter spirit turned, spinning on his heel to jump up on the windowsill, glancing back with a sneer painted on his washed-out face. “I _anxiously_ await your answer.”

And then he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from the song Deep Down by Saosin


	2. Because We Have To

Jamie had felt weak and frenzied, watching Jack take both of Sophie’s frail wrists in one fist and jerk them behind her back in restraint. His other hand had hovered above her head, glowing faintly with an inky-blue light that the mere thought of made Jamie recoil. His best friend had threatened to freeze his little sister with that hand, a crazed look in his eyes. Now, no amount of heat could thaw her without hurting her.

When Jack had finally gone, he’d left behind two unsettled and confused Bennett siblings—one fraught with an agony that went quite literally bone-deep, and one who’d considered himself a man until that late evening when he’d found him and his sister at Jack’s mercy. He was ashamed of himself, carefully watching his small sister bite back the hard sting that came from the dying tissue of her hand, which decayed immediately upon the black ice’s far from gentle touch. She made not a peep, even as her face pinched in pain. She was mature beyond her years, yet he was the older brother. And what had he done to show for that? He’d cowered like a craven, begging from his stationary position at the opposite side of the room as far as he could get from Jack to let his sister go.

Jack was right. What kind of a pathetic older brother was he?

There was more to it, though. Jack had not left behind just his lethal curse that slowly killed Sophie as the hours dragged on, but also a sort of anguish between the distraught siblings of a man who was not quite a man and a girl who was not quite a girl. He left behind questions, ones that had no easy answers.

He left behind the ache of betrayal that still lay fresh in their chests, slashing ruthlessly at their soft hearts.

Jamie and Sophie had cried in each other’s arms, wondering what had happened, wondering why Jack had tried to hurt Soph, why Jack had threatened Jamie, why Jack had joined Pitch and turned evil, why Jack wasn’t Jack anymore. They lamented all of this until they were both out-cold, waking up the next morning in a makeshift nest of Sophie’s blankets and stuffed animals, thanking whoever was watching over them for the miracle of keeping their mother asleep through it all.

* * *

 

Jamie found himself staring at Sophie’s infected finger, expertly wrapped in a bandage to avoid suspicion, at the breakfast table as they picked at their pancakes. He was thinking to himself how much of a failure he was.

The self-deprecating musings of last night came back to him then as he continued to gape at the deadly results of Jack’s dark new powers, his eyes zeroing in on a particular sliver of black ice that had peeped out beneath the edge of the white sterile gauze.

He had just stood there, useless, too weak to stop Jack and his schemes. Hadn’t he taken a year off of school specifically just to be there in case something happened, just in case Pitch came back?

Just what was his purpose? What was he even doing here, now?

 _Weak,_ came the scathing thought. _Useless._

_Coward. Child._

_You’re nothing._

It had taken a toll on his ego as well. He was nineteen years old now, a full head taller than Jack, and yet he was still powerless when it came to the things that really mattered. He was no match for the ice spirit.

 _What am I doing here? What is my purpose? What_ use _am I?_

Sophie caught his stare when she happened to glance up. Seeing his mournful expression, she tried her best to reassure him. “Jamie, don’t worry about it. It’s not your fault. Besides,” she added in an off-hand way, “I can’t even feel it.”

Jamie’s eyes grew large, his brown eyes wide. “What? You mean you can’t feel anything at all?”

She frowned, confused. “No, nothing.”

“That’s not good, Soph,” he said, now on the verge of panicking. Jamie stood, scraping the remaining contents of his plate into the trash bin, stacking his dishes in the sink, snatching her breakfast up and doing the same without consent. He hated wasting good food like that, but their greyhound, Abbey, had since passed away a year ago.

“Hey!” Sophie protested.

He rolled his eyes while slipping his jacket on. “Oh, please, you weren’t even eating it.”

“But, still, you shouldn’t just assume—”

“Whatever. Just hurry up.” Jamie thrust her coat at her.

She caught it, following his instructions with satisfying speed. “I don’t get it. Where are we going?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he asked, withdrawing a glass sphere swirling with color from his pocket.

Sophie went bug-eyed. “But that’s for emergencies only!”

Jamie raised an eyebrow at her. “In case you haven’t noticed, this is an emergency. Now c’mon!”

She scurried over to stand next to him as he chucked the glass ball with all his might and hit the wall.

Instead of shattering into a thousand million tiny pieces, the sphere exploded into a swirling yeti-sized vortex that thundered a bass sound so low that the Bennett siblings felt their very bones vibrate.

 _Bunnymund,_ Jamie thought after some contemplation and prodding from Sophie, silently asking the portal to open into the Easter Bunny’s springtime underground lair.

Jamie took Sophie’s hand, and together they disappeared into the hole in the wall.

* * *

 

They were ejected into Bunnymund’s domain, the Warren. The springtime den exposed them to the pure _greenness_ and fertileness of the landscape, lolling hills dominated with flowers and fruits and grasses, an abundance of trees and bushes overpowering the terrain in magnificent springtime décor. Here and there stone pillars and geometric statues mysteriously dotted the area, barely noticeable under the piles of foliage and moss. Standing before them was a row of stone arches dripping with vegetation, and from them poured an army of large stone eggs.

Before they knew it, Sophie and Jamie were completely surrounded by the egg warriors, their top halves swerving around to display their scowling battle faces.

Once again, Jamie found himself feeling pathetically helpless. He shifted subtly to keep Sophie behind him, stretching out an arm behind to shield her from the side, knowing that while the gesture was futile, it still made him feel better knowing he was doing something, however small, to protect his little sister.

“Who _dares_ to invade my Warren?” an angry Australian voice boomed.

E. Aster Bunnymund stood at the crest of the tallest hill, peering down at his gathering of Egg Warriors with a displeased expression.

The Pooka hopped down the slope toward them to get a clearer view, knowing they weren’t going anywhere anytime soon.

“Oh, so it’s the ankle-biter and her brother,” Bunnymund said when he got close enough to see them. He waved off his Egg Warriors, who marched heavily away and out of sight. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? ‘Bout four years. Time flies by fast, doesn’t it?”

Sophie stared meekly down at her feet, feeling small and blushing so much, her face was like one of the many large tomatoes in Bunny’s lair. “Sorry,” she muttered shyly.

“Oh, don’t apologize, sheila! I understand. I know you didn’t forget about me,” he quickly put in. But from the look in his eyes, Sophie knew that he _had_ worried they had stopped believing in him. Guilt made her heart ache for her favorite garden. She silently made a promise to visit more often. “So, what brings you two here? Come to decorate eggs early, have you?”

“No, sorry,” Jamie said. “It’s an emergency.”

“Oh? What sort of an emergency?” Bunnymund asked, raising one bushy eyebrow.

“It’s Jack,” Sophie blurted.

Bunnymund’s expression turned grim. His bright smile faded and pushed down into a frown. “Oh, yes. Gone rogue, he has.”

“It’s not his fault,” Jamie said hotly. He suddenly felt defensive for his absent best friend, albeit that best friend had already betrayed Jamie and his family as of the night before, and absent for good reason. “He’s under Pitch’s influence.”

“So he is,” Bunnymund agreed, nodding. “But that doesn’t really change things. We’ve been trying to apprehend him, but so far he’s escaped every one of our attempts. He’s ambushed the Guardians a couple of times. We haven’t been able to locate him recently.”

“He came to our house,” Jamie said.

Bunnymund’s eyes narrowed to slits. “He did what now?”

“He wanted me to take his Guardianship away. He said only the Guardians or his first believer is able to do that. But he said if I didn’t, he’d hurt Sophie.”

The Pooka’s evergreen eyes turned to stone. “Oh, he did, did he?” He turned his gaze to Sophie, seeming to notice her bandage for the first time since their arrival. “Oi, sheila, what did you do to your finger there?”

Before she could reply, Jamie cut her off, deciding they didn’t have time for her to make excuses and apologize for Jack like he knew she would—which he knew because he wanted to somehow wave the whole incident off as an accident. But this was Sophie they were talking about, his little sister. They needed to be quick about getting help, or she may not survive.

Bunny needed the concise, blunt answer from them.

“Jack attacked her,” he said, ignoring Sophie’s flinch.

“ _What?_ ” Bunnymund bellowed, a dark growl low in his throat. “Let me see!”

He held out a soft paw and gingerly took Sophie’s hesitant hand. The Pooka unwrapped the gauze encasing her ring finger, taking great care to be gentle so as not to hurt her.

Jamie regarded Bunnymund as the Pooka’s dark eyes inspected the damage. His gaze was fleeting as he quickly took in each individual detail of the ice, the green orbs flitting here and there across her finger as he twisted her hand delicately every which way.

Her digit sheathed in what looked like obsidian or onyx was revealed in all its ominous glory, glinting dangerously in the false sunlight. As they watched, the black ice began to spread, frosting over her warm skin until her whole hand was completely obscured.

Sophie cried out, her face white with the effort of holding in what Jamie knew would be a spine-chilling shriek as her knees buckled, and she collapsed. Hidden tears bloomed at the corners of her eyes as Bunnymund and Jamie stared in horror at the scene.

“I’ll kill him!” Bunnymund snarled. “I swear, I’ll kill the bastard!”

“No—don’t,” Sophie said, her voice still strained. She was rocking herself on the ground, clutching her injured hand to her chest. “Please,” she pleaded. “He’s not himself. He doesn’t know.”

Bunnymund didn’t have the heart to tell her that Jack knew perfectly well what he had done. But those pitiful green eyes so similar to his own were so fragile, he was afraid of breaking her heart. “Alright,” he amended at last. “But I’m still gonna knock some sense in him, maybe with a good bashing or two.”

“Is there any way you can cure it?” Jamie asked, the desperation clear in his voice.

“’Fraid not. Only Frost can undo his own mess,” Bunnymund grumped.

“So what now?” Jamie asked miserably. “How do we solve this?”

“First off, we need to get the rest of the Guardians together for a meeting and talk this over,” the Pooka said. “Second, you need to know the consequences of releasing Jack from his Guardianship. Right now, though, we need to get to the North Pole.”

“How?”

“I’m so glad you asked,” Bunnymund grinned, clearly about to show them something to brag of. He thumped the ground with his foot. The path below fell away, becoming a large, seemingly bottomless hole big enough for a giant-sized rabbit to slip through.

“C’mon, then,” Bunnymund urged, pulling Jamie and Sophie close. “Hold on tight.” And then they were falling, stomachs sinking hazardously in their bellies like on a rollercoaster on steroids, the Pooka’s arms held tight around them.

* * *

 

They landed upright on their feet in a large, wondrous room with a vibrant domed ceiling and enormous glass windows that spanned the tall walls. There were multiple floors of the workshop that twisted in a circular circuit to the top, spiraling around what seemed to be the very center of the whole place. In the middle of the floor there stood a monstrous and thick column that pushed all the way to the doomed top of the ceiling, supporting a massive scale model of the Earth and its moon. Tiny, comical elves danced around them in their red hooded tunics and blue or green leggings. Their bells tinkled merrily as they moved, their small faces beaming ecstatically up at them in recognition. Yetis bustled about with tools in their hands and aprons covering their shaggy fronts.

“So, you’ve finally arrived,” a heavily accented voice welcomed them.

They followed the source of the sound, winding past workshop tables and countertops and crowds of abominable snowmen to find Nicholas St. North standing alongside a tearful Toothiana, who, at the moment, was being silently consoled by Sanderson Mansnoozie, all gathered by a colossal fireplace that crackled and hissed pleasantly.

“What happened to you?” Bunnymund asked, indicating Tooth.

Tooth looked up at him, but turned her head away, apparently too upset to explain. Images darted across Sandy’s head, but they were too obscure and rapid-fire for any of them to properly understand. North spoke in Tooth’s place.

“He attacked with an army of Fearlings. They took over the whole palace. They needed the children’s memories to inflict fear on,” North stated. “It’s just like all those years ago before.”

Tooth clenched her fists at her sides, gritting her teeth at North’s words. She seemed to find the strength to speak. She lifted her head from her lap, her mauve eyes burning with anger, hot tears tracking down her cheeks. “He hunted down my fairies one by one and froze them, and he made me watch. The last one, Baby Tooth, she had a mutation. One of her eyes had lost its pigment, and she has these cute little moles under the other eye like stars. She’s flawed and sticks out like a sore thumb, but she’s a good little worker. One of my best. He said—said that she was her favorite. He froze her slower than the rest… I-I can still hear her shrieking. I managed to free myself and flee, but I could hear him laugh that horrible laugh. I ran into Sandy, and we came here.”

Looking around at the other Guardians, Jamie saw that they were downtrodden with the news of Jack’s betrayal. Tooth looked like this game was now personal, and that she would be ready next time. Her red-violet eyes were blazing with her need for vengeance, and North seemed to share her sentiments, his own warm blue eyes narrowed in battle-ready mode. Bunnymund gripped one of his boomerangs, tapping it restlessly every now and then at his thigh, his green gaze fixed on a spot beyond the workshop windows, past the barren white arctic landscape outside. Only Sandy seemed to be the most reluctant in his anger at Jack. The Sandman’s amber eyes were drawn in sadness, flitting at times to catch glimpses of the other Guardians’ steely manners. He appeared to be conflicted, an image of snowflakes and the crescent of the moon occasionally popping above his head in sporadic moments when he thought no one was looking.

Jamie glanced over at his sister. Sophie was so pale it looked as if all the color had simply drained out of her. Disbelief lined her grey features. Jamie didn’t blame her one bit—he probably looked much the same. They were all in shock and were unsure how to treat this new Jack Frost that none of them could recognize without a pang for the old Jack…and yet, there was some sort of indignation towards the winter spirit, a sort of damnation, a blame that was laid on the boy for his recent crimes. He was being regarded as an enemy, and of course all enemies deserved the contempt and anger of the Guardians.

At least, this was the case in the Guardians’ minds.

“Sophie, what is wrong with your hand, dear?” North asked, his Russian accent strong with restrained emotion.

The other Guardians were looking now at Sophie’s hesitantly displayed hand, faces unreadable as they noiselessly examined the tainted ice encasing her palm.

“Did Jack do that?” Tooth asked, her voice eerily quiet.

After a pause, Sophie nodded in affirmation.

 The legendary figures exchanged glances with each other, deathly calm but grim, coming to a silent final decision that would determine the meeting’s outcome and Jack’s fate.

“It is decided, then,” North sighed. “It pains me to say it, but Jack Frost must be destroyed.”

 _No,_ Jamie thought. _They can’t. No, please._

He cursed under his breath, afraid to speak into the stifling silence that had settled heavily after North’s declaration of Jack’s death sentence.

The calm was split by Sophie’s ragged scream, a scream so raw with emotion that the Guardians themselves flinched beneath the sound of agony.

“ _No,_ ” Sophie said crossly. “ _No,_ you _can’t._ No.”

Jamie was at her side, arms wrapped in vain attempt to comfort his sister. Something like amazement, love, and fear for his sister stirred in his chest as he peered down at the top of her vulnerable blonde head. He looked to the Guardians, his brown eyes desperate for any hope to be found. “Isn’t there some way—some way to reverse this and change Jack back?”

North shook his head. “I’m afraid not. We’ve tried everything, but it appears that Pitch’s control runs too deep. I’m sorry, children, but it seems our sort of magic can’t reach him in such a state.”

A tear budded in the corner of one of North’s deep blue eyes, and Jamie realized that he and the other Guardians had tried to bring Jack back—multiple times—and had failed each and every time. They lost him every time they faced Jack, and went through the same mourning process each time. Now they were tired and starting to accept the fact that maybe—maybe Jack was lost forever.

But they were just as frustrated and woeful about their friend as Jamie and Sophie were, if not more so.

The thought eased him, knowing that he and his sister weren’t alone in the matter as far as their emotions and agitation went.

“Besides,” Tooth added, interrupting Jamie’s reverie. “It’s one thing to attack a fellow Guardian, which is a serious offense, but to attack a child, and one of your believers nonetheless, is unheard of. To go that far…It’s profane—it’s blasphemy. You just don’t do that sort of thing. But Jack hurt Sophie, the worst crime any legendary figure can commit. It warrants a punishment worse than death. It’s proof that he’s beyond our help now. We must act before it’s too late.”

Jamie thought that sounded a bit harsh, but really he couldn’t fault her. Jack had sought out and frozen all of her fairies that could be considered like her children, or even tiny parts of Tooth herself. He would’ve been angry, too. But he just couldn’t let his only best friend in the whole world be declared a lost cause and given a death sentence.

“Alright, my Guardians, let us vote then. Those who wish to annihilate the Guardian Jackson Overland Frost, please raise your right hand,” North stated.

Jamie felt a moment of puzzlement over Jack’s full name, but the wonderment quickly faded and was replaced with something that made his heart drop at the sight that met his eyes next.

North, Tooth, and Bunnymund, after wavering a moment, raised their right hands.

Sophie’s face fell as she watched her favorite Pooka join in on the vote. “Bunny,” she said, disappointment coloring her tone.

“Sorry, ankle-biter, but I can’t forgive him for hurting you like that,” the Pooka responded, his face set in grave determination, letting Sophie know his decision was final.

“Sandy?” North questioned the mute man.

Sandy had crossed his arms over his chest and set his face in a determined scowl, refusing to raise his hand or participate in the vote. Several images flashed over his head, none of which Jamie could understand save for the occasional snowflake that he took to mean Jack.

“I know this isn’t right, and I’m sorry you feel that we shouldn’t be deciding this so soon, but we can’t just ignore Jack’s actions. He’s an enemy now, Sandy. You just have to accept that,” Tooth said, not unkindly.

“We’re all feeling just as bad as you, Sandy. But we’ve got to be rational here and do what’s right. We can’t just turn a blind eye to it all,” Bunnymund supplied.

Sandy seemed to grow more frustrated. He stamped his small feet and stormed away moodily, storm clouds and volcanoes appearing in the images above his head as gold sand swarmed in a cyclone around him and swallowed his form. The sand scooped him up and blasted up and off through the ceiling, leaving no trace of the short, golden figure behind.

“Well, that leaves just us three then,” Bunnymund said. “Sandy’s gone rogue, too, now.”

“We need a plan.” Tooth pounded a tiny fist into her other hand.

“Yes, but first we need to find Jack,” North reasoned.

Bunnymund turned to Jamie and Sophie standing huddled together outside the circle of Guardians and raised his thick black eyebrows at them. “Didn’t you say Jack wanted _you_ to find _him_? Think carefully now, bloke. Where did he say to meet him by the deadline?”

Jamie’s face screwed up in tense concentration. He fixed his gaze to the polished stone floor, thinking. “I…” he muttered, trying to remember.

Suddenly it came to him. His eyes locked with Bunny’s, but his stare faltered slightly as he processed the vague words. “He said that…he said he would be wherever Pitch was…”

But the Guardians only nodded as if what Jamie had said made perfect sense.

“Makes sense, since Jack’s Pitch’s right-hand man now,” the Pooka conjectured.

“Wait, wait. Hold on here a sec.” Jamie pulled away from Sophie, holding up and waving his hands, palms forward, shaking his head. “I don’t understand. Did I miss something? How do you guys know where Jack is?”

“Pitch has his own personal territory just like any of us do, like North’s workshop or Bunnymund’s warren or my palace,” Tooth explained. “It’s where we reside, like our home where we conduct business. Pitch would most likely be lying in wait in his own lair while he plotted. And Jack would be with him, of course, scheming alongside him.”

Sophie shivered beside her brother. Jamie didn’t like the sound of his best friend planning some evil take-over-the-world strategy with the villain from his bedtime stories. The Boogeyman had almost succeeded in consuming the world with darkness and nightmares before when Jamie was much younger, hardly double digits yet. It was twisted and wrong. It made him sick to think about.

“So where’s Pitch’s lair?” he asked.

The three Guardians exchanged glances.

“Technically, the Nightmare King has many lairs all over the world, but,” Tooth hastily amended. “His most recent one is in Venice, Italy, deep underground.”

“So how do we plan on getting there?”

“Pitch’s lair has many entrances, my dear child,” North interjected. “One is quite close to your very own home.”

Jamie’s eyebrows scrunched. “Where?”

“Why, a hole in the forest by Jack’s pond. The one he was banished to after he was defeated and overtaken by the Nightmares, if you remember right.”

Sophie’s brow furrowed, but Jamie knew she’d been much too young to remember anything—only a meager two years old.

Jamie, however, remembered a lot from that battle, and this detail of Pitch’s banishment he didn’t recall much—most likely because he hadn’t been able to see Pitch once they’d started playing a snowball fight while the golden dream sand had filled the sky and creatures made from the stuff roamed the streets of Burgess. They later had arrived at Jack’s pond to watch the winter spirit become initiated as a new Guardian and say good-bye to Jack and the other Guardians. But never had he seen Pitch destroyed—he might as well have vanished into thin air.

And up until this point, Jamie believed he had.

“We need to discuss what Jack wanted from Jamie,” Bunnymund said. He turned to the young adult and nodded at Jamie. “Go on, bloke. Tell them.”

Jamie gulped, feeling self-conscious as four pairs of eyes gave him their full attention, three being the legendary figures that he’d heard about since his very first memory could place, people who were supposed to be myths, and one pair his adoring little sister’s.

“Well, he asked us—he asked _me_ —if I would be _willing_ to lift his Guardian’s Oath from him in exchange for curing Sophie’s ice curse. He mentioned that not being a Guardian would make him more powerful than ever before,” Jamie said, fidgeting with his fingers as he spoke.

“So it’s like that, huh?” Bunnymund said, a perfect picture of indifference. “Should’ve known.”

“It is truly a serious thing for Jack to consider. It would have devastating consequences for this world,” North added, his face solemn.

Tooth nodded in agreement. “The situation must truly be dire then.”

“What are you guys talking about?!” Jamie hollered to be heard over the mutterings of the supernatural beings. He was huffing in anger, his face a darkening shade of chartreuse.

“Guardianship limits legendary figures,” Tooth explained gently, trying to soothe Jamie’s confusion and outrage. “By taking the oath, we are binding the source of our power to the strength of our children’s belief. The stronger their belief, or the greater number of children who believe, the more powerful we could ever hope to imagine. But, if they stop believing, our powers dwindle as well. Jack is no exception to this. He’s weakened by the lack of believers. It’s just you and Sophie left, isn’t it? Jack can’t do much, but he can do enough, like threaten you into doing what he wants. By taking away his Guardianship, you’re giving Jack back his power and strength.”

“And before he became a Guardian, Jack showed great promise. The full extent of his powers had yet to be realized. There is still much latent energy in him, and I fear that energy could actually throw the Earth into another ice age if he has anywhere near the amount of power I think he has in him,” North elaborated.

“If he combines his power with Pitch’s, the world will be consumed in the chaos of both dark and cold.”

“It will truly be a nightmare.”

“Which certainly suits Pitch for Jack to work with him.”

“ _Stop it!_ ” Sophie shrieked before Jamie could even open his mouth. “Stop,” she gasped. “I can’t handle any more of this. Stop talking about Jack as if we’ve already lost him. That’s not Jack. It isn’t. It can’t be.”

North gazed at the girl with pity. He knew she’d been overwhelmed with all of this talk of removing Jack Frost permanently from their lives. They were all were, if he was being honest with himself. “Then what do you propose we call him, dear child?” he asked, obliging to her wishes out of sympathy.

Sophie closed her eyes. “Dark. He’s dark Jack Frost now.”

“He’s darker than just that. He’s black. Jack is black,” Tooth said in a low voice.

“Black Frost,” Bunnymund mused with only a small amount of humor.

“This isn’t funny!” Sophie snapped. “This is serious business.”

“We know, Sophie,” Jamie said, trying to appease his sister and laying a hand on her shoulder, which she didn’t acknowledge. “We’re just trying to lighten the mood. We’re all tired here.”

The boy—no, man—turned to face the setting sun glinting in brilliant shades through the large cut-glass windows. “I think it’s time all of us rested for the night.”

“You’re welcome to stay,” North offered, though he sounded exhausted as well. He wanted to do something more for Jack’s last believers, as a sort of thanks for all they’d done and would do later on. “I know going home could hold…too many memories for you.”

“Or you could stay with me or Bunnymund as well,” Tooth said, throwing in her lot as well, nudging the Pooka in a not-so-discreet way.

“Of course you can.” Bunnymund gave a faint, weary smile.

Jamie turned to his little sister, eyeing her carefully. She had since disentangled herself from his arms, refusing to be comforted despite the fact that she was still shaking occasionally. Watching her, he made up his mind.

“I think it’s best if we stay with one of you guys,” Jamie said. “But I’ll let Sophie choose.”

Sophie met her brother’s concerned gaze for a moment before sighing in compliance. Her eyes immediately lit on the tall figure of the Pooka. “Bunnymund,” she decided.

The Guardians burst into laughter, catching her off-guard and causing her to cringe slightly.

“Oh, Sophie, dear, it’s no secret that Bunnymund is your favorite Guardian!” Tooth said between gasps.

Sophie blushed.

“Yes, I’m sure it’s a nice change for him, seeing as how most children either love Christmas or the Tooth Fairy’s deep pockets,” North added.

“What is _that_ supposed to mean, North?” Tooth’s eyes narrowed at the rosy-cheeked man that towered over her. Her laughs had abruptly halted at North’s comment.

The Russian avoided her fiery look sheepishly. “I did not mean anything by it, Tooth. I only meant—”

Toothiana cackled at his sudden discomfort, pleased that she had been able to make him squirm. North joined in on her laughter after realizing she had only been teasing, swiping at his tears of joy.

“Oh, shut it, would you? Sound like a pack of wild hyenas, you do,” Bunny grumbled.

North waved off Bunnymund, bent over now from the strain of his guffaws. Tooth patted his back gently as she, too, continued to giggle heartily.

 “Well, now, if those two donkeys are done heeing and hawing, we best be off,” Bunny said, turning to the two humans now in his charge. He tapped the tiled floor with one large flat foot, the ground sinking to form a large hole big enough for him and the two Bennett children.

Bunnymund scooped them into his arms securely. “Hang on tight,” he warned, before jumping in.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter is Because We Have To by Low Roar


	3. It's Time

Jamie felt his stomach drop to his toes as they plummeted down the hole into slanting tunnels forking off here and there to blackness. The Pooka skated expertly across the winding surface as Jamie and Sophie, true to Bunny’s words, hung on tight, scared to fall off and crash.

Finally the stony tunnel became lined with moss and short grass, cueing their exit into the Easter Bunny’s lair.

The Warren was just as they had left it—beautiful and blooming in vividness. There was no breeze, but the trees and plants swayed and sang and whispered, enticing in their tempting voices and gentle movements. The Egg Warriors were currently on their peaceful settings, smiley faces greeting them as Bunny and the Bennett siblings stepped forward and slowly regained their balance. Small Easter eggs in various stages of decoration scurried about on tiny legs, toddling under their awkward weight and bumping into their ankles before hurrying off.

Sophie inhaled deeply, seeming to take in the scent of the place. “I really like it here,” she beamed.

Bunnymund and Jamie saw her green eyes sparkling with delight and felt their silent relief wash through them at the sight, content that she deserved this happiness in place of the worry and pain that had been plaguing her mind earlier.

“Thanks,” Bunnymund said, returning Sophie’s grin with his own boastful smirk. “Decorated it myself.”

Jamie interrupted Sophie’s exclamations of admiration for her favorite Guardian. There would be enough time for that later. He needed to know their plans for future action regarding Jack.

“First off, you two will rest here. Don’t really have beds per se, but the grass is pretty soft. I could get you some blankets,” Bunny suggested, continuing on after their nods of approval. “We’re gathering our forces for tonight, and tomorrow we go on the offensive and go after Jack and Pitch. That also gives time for Sandy to change his mind, if he so wishes.”

“What’ll we do?” Jamie asked.

“Stay here,” Bunny said firmly. “Jack wouldn’t attack my lair. The springtime atmosphere would weaken him, somewhat, and he’s already weak as it is. He won’t risk it, I don’t think. You could stay at Tooth’s palace, too. Wouldn’t make sense to attack the same place twice.”

“But I need to go with you guys,” Jamie said doggedly. “I have to. You need me there to lure him. Sophie can stay safe here, but you need me, and you know it. Please,” Jamie added on the off-chance Bunny happened to be a sucker for the begging type.

Bunny sighed. His next words would prove Jamie’s assumption correct. “We’ll see, mate. Have to take it up with the other Guardians in the morning. But for now, best you two be getting to bed now. It’s already almost midnight. I can dampen the light in here so you can sleep, but now too much. The plants in here are special and need to have constant light to stay alive.”

Jamie and Sophie were somewhat taken aback to hear the time, but not terribly shocked. It had been a long day, and they were grateful for the sleep they were hoping to receive.

Slowly the skies turned a dusky bronze, a twilight blue seeping through the gold sundown like watercolor. The world seemed to quiet and marvel at the darkness, settling into its own sort of sleep.

Sophie found a particularly cozy spot under a tree where the grass seemed extra soft and bouncy. She curled up into a cove formed by the tree’s large roots growing above the ground on either side of her. Wrapped in Bunny’s borrowed blankets, her head lolled back onto the trunk behind her, and she drifted into sleep surrounded by the smells of springtime growth.

After seeing his sister fall peacefully into sleep across the hill from him, Jamie settled comfortably into a nook beneath one of the ancient stone monuments swallowed by foliage., He, too, fell into a restful sleep after some time watching spontaneous dots of stars appear here and there in the false sky.

* * *

 

It didn’t seem long before the visions started appearing, turning dreamland into a restless nightmare for Sophie.

She’d been playing with Jack and Jamie in the snow, hiding behind a bank on Jamie’s side, hoping to find a chance to sneak over to Jack’s side to surprise attack him and bombard him with snowballs.

But as she ducked and crawled on elbows and knees to him, the laughter had suddenly stopped. The air became stagnant and empty of sound or movement. She shivered, noting that for the first time it was actually cold outside. Stealing a glance up at the mock battlefield, Sophie saw that there was a lack of snow—no snowballs, no snowfall.

The flying snow had abruptly vanished.

The laughter had gone.

…And Jamie and Jack were no where to be seen.

 In their absence was a smothering silence, one that hinted that something was wrong. Something ominous.

Something… _insidious._

“Jamie?” she called over her shoulder.

There was no reply, and to her horror, she realized he really wasn’t there, not anymore—disappeared into thin air.

“Jack?” she shouted, suddenly panic-stricken. “Jack? Where’s Jamie? What’s going on? Jack? You there? Jack? Jack?!”

Sophie stood, whipping her head around every which way, her blonde hair smacking her chapped face. It caught in her eyelashes and stuck to her mouth. Now her vision was swathed in spider web locks, smearing her sight. She was choking, gasping for painful breaths through the hair that seemed to fill her mouth—behind her teeth, beneath her tongue, the roof of her mouth, and down her throat. “Jack” she wanted to say, but she could feel herself fading out of focus, and she thought that this is what it must’ve been like to die. This is how Jamie must’ve felt when he’d vanished out of nowhere.

And then she knew—Jamie had died.

He’d departed the world this way—he hadn’t just disappeared. Her brother had died.

A sob knotted in her throat, just beneath all of those hairs that prevented any and all sound from escaping. She could feel her windpipe closing.

She struggled with her hair, furiously fighting to push it out of her eyes and pull it from her behind her lips, but it was no use. The wind only shoved it back in again, and deeper, grazing her eyes like sand and forcing it down into her lungs, her chest. She would die just like her brother, Jamie, had.

Still, Sophie searched for Jack, determined until the end to find him.

And _there_ —a blur of blue and brown that stood out against the snow, low to the ground.

She was relieved to see the winter spirit still present with her. But her fear spiked at seeing him lying on his side, facing away from her.

Sophie rushed to him and collapsed to her knees. She looked at his face, searching for any signs of consciousness. Pulling him into her lap, she gazed down at him, her voice pleading for him to hurry and wake up. She was scared.

“Jack?” she said in a small voice.

Was he okay? He…he couldn’t be dead, could he? But he wasn’t moving. And Jamie was gone, the responsible adult who knew how to make everything alright, the only one who could help, her brother she depended on. Who had already died.

“Jack.” Her voice faltered, hitched as her hope shattered. She pressed her forehead to his, closed her eyes. “Jack. I’m scared, Jack.”

She opened her eyes partially to look at him and found herself staring into not the familiar cool blue irises, but pale gold ones filled with malice and hunger.

Sophie jerked back, stumbling to her feet as Jack stood and faced her, a wicked grin twisting his features. His snow-white hair darkened to a faceless black, his spikes shifting with the sudden wind to form a wilder, more unkempt hairdo. His skin bleached itself of all color, taking on a grey tone, though there was a silvery quality to it, shimmering slightly like snow on black ice. His sweatshirt was almost black, with blue undertones like ink. Pewter-colored frost fringed the edges of his hood and shoulders like soot. His pants were completely gray now, the bindings like black snakes strapping the material to his legs.

He spun his staff, which purged itself of color, turning a light gray. He tapped the ground with the end of it once. Sophie watched detachedly as a trail of ice reached for her, swiping her feet out from under her. Only then did she scream, feeling Earth drag her weight down, for all she knew down to its deepest core for eternity. After all, this was a nightmare.

However, that was not the case. She landed on her back, her elbows banging the ground hard beneath her and her head cracking on the ice before she was staring with stars in her eyes at the empty winter sky. The earth was decidedly solid, she thought to herself wryly.

And then Jack was looming over her, his eyes punishing and his grin cynical.

“So you’re afraid, huh?” he taunted. “Took you long enough to admit, didn’t it?”

She squeezed her eyes shut; if she couldn’t see him, she didn’t feel quite as afraid.

“You’re not the real Jack,” she said, as if saying it aloud could dispel this new darker doppelganger.

“Oh, please,” Jack huffed. “Spare me the ‘you’re dark’ bit. I already heard everything back at the Pole.”

Sophie’s eyes flew open. “You heard?”

Jack scoffed at her. “Of course I did. Pitch controls the darkness. Your very own shadow can betray you. He listens, I listen. We hear all. Including supposedly ‘secret’ conversations in ‘secret’ lairs.” He air-quoted the word “secrets” to further emphasize his point, rolling his eyes in disgust on their obviousness.

He knew everything. _Everything._ Including her emotional outburst. He knew that she’d defended him, and yet he showed no sign of gratitude or remorse…nothing. There was only revulsion and contempt for her, spurning her help and her weaknesses. Did he not know that she’d poured her heart out and bled for him? That she’d opened up, left her feelings bare and exposed and vulnerable to her heroes, her idols that she looked up to _just for him_? For his life? His freedom? His happiness?

The Jack she’d known may have been cold on the outside, but inside he’d been warmer than any scorching, tropical sun.

…It seemed he’d been frozen all the way to his icy heart.

“Why are you here?” she finally asked after processing everything. Her voice sounded defeated. She _felt_ defeated.

 “Hell if I know,” Jack said, obviously irritated with this fact.

Sophie flinched, not used to hearing Jack swear. He wasn’t necessarily a goody-two shoes. Far from that. He’d never needed to convey feelings with crude words, though. He’d never cursed before, and it was strangely degrading to hear him do so. It made her feel bitter and hollow, as if he were dragging her to the bottom with him.

“Legendary figures don’t sleep,” Jack ranted. “But I was trying to figuratively get into dreamland via a meditative state by doing some relaxation bullshit. I _wanted_ to contact Jamie, but it seems Sandman had other plans because instead, here I am shooting the shit with his little sister. And would you _stop_ with the cringing already,” he snapped. “Holy shit, that gets old.”

Sophie shot him a glare, feeling suddenly indignant that she was politely suffering through his dialogue and that he would reprimand her for it. Her patience, her perfect endurance was quickly being forgotten and forgone for her wrath that stirred at being treated like she was worthless.

“Maybe it’s you,” Jack said, smirking at her. “Maybe you _wanted_ to dream about me. And summoned me somehow.”

Sophie blushed, but she was feeling angry and humiliated. She stayed silent.

Jack took this as a sort of confirmation. “Hah, so you _were_ dreaming about me. Aw, Soph, you shouldn’t have! We both know that’s a road that we can never go down. It’s impossible! I could _never_ love you!”

She didn’t know why, but tears were searing her eyes. She was bitter, angry, disappointed, and…sad. Drained. She felt somehow hollow. Her throat burned as she tried to swallow boulders. Against her will, a tear tracked down the side of her face in defiance.

The sight of it only seemed to spur Jack on. “Aw, how sweet, Soph! You crying for me? You shouldn’t have, really! After all, it’s all in vain. The Jack that you knew is gone—I’ve changed. You just have to accept that!”

“Why are you really here?” she said suddenly.

Somehow…just somehow, she found the strength to wipe away the tears and stand. She knew her face was pink, her cheeks, forehead, nose, chin, ears all burning scarlet. Her eyes were rosy at the corners and swollen, still shiny with fresh tears, but she ignored it all. Her gaze was steady and she did not shake as she locked stares with a bewildered Jack Frost.

No. Not Jack Frost. This was not him. She refused to acknowledge this boy as the same entity as her and her brother’s childhood friend. The friend who promised he would do anything for them—who played with them when they were beyond the point of despair—who made them smile so easily—Guardian of Fun—who saved them—who always promised that he would never let her fall.

This boy who refused to catch her was not Jack. This boy who mocked her feelings when the real Jack would have soothed her in his own awkward but successful and goofy way. Who respected her. This was someone entirely different.

Her eyes turned to stone, her spine to steel.

“Why. Are you. Here,” she repeated, practically growling in how hard her voice had become.

The not Jack narrowed his eyes at her. And then he burst out laughing, almost spontaneously.

“Like I said, hell if I know. I’m guessing that Sandy put me here, maybe so we could talk. But who knows?” Jack shrugged. He shook his head in a flauntingly exasperated fashion.

Then he raised his head to look at her with even ginger eyes, a large sneer plastered on his ashy face. “Tell your brother I said hi. I’m still waiting for his answer.” Jack directed his eyes to her left hand. “Oh, and speaking of which—my presence, even though you’re only dreaming, makes the ice spread that much faster.”

Sophie stared down at her hand covered to her wrist in ice. It began to shift, growing, blooming across her wrist and halfway to her forearm.

Jack laughed as she screamed in pain. “You’re such a weenie, Sophie!”

The volatile concoction of pain and her clashing emotions seemed to take tangible form as the pain in her arm increased, as if the ice were burning her. Like someone had dumped acid on her arm.

She screamed at the top of her lungs, not caring anymore. If she didn’t scream, she’d go insane, she’d explode trying to keep all of the pain in. A thousand hornets were stinging her arm, acid had been dumped, gasoline poured and lit, her hand had been stuck with needles. All of those things couldn’t describe the impossible pain she was feeling. And the worse part was that it wasn’t fading. It didn’t subside or come in waves. It stayed, constant in its torment.

Only distantly did she hear Jack pleading with her to shut up as he covered his ears to block out her shrieks.

Her vision turned white as she felt anger and pain swarm her system. She refused to take any— _bullshit—_ there, she said it—from him. Not any more.

She took a step forward, stumbling, and grabbed Jack’s arm in a desperate attempt to catch herself. He tried to shake her off, but she held on hard.

Jack screamed. “ _You’re burning me! You’re burning me!_ ” he said, barely discernable through his own shrieks.

Sophie looked down at her left hand, surprised to see it on fire with a strange light glinting in the flames—a light not unlike sunlight, flashing in blinding bursts of fractured rainbow colors like the Northern Lights and white luminescence. But she felt numb, watching it consume her arm. Distantly, she realized Jack had long since disappeared from her dream, and yet she could still hear screams.

Then she realized that she was the one screaming.

Other voices broke through to her, shattering the hallucination and rousing her. They pleaded with her to wake, to stop screaming, that everything was okay.

She woke up amidst grass that seemed to be greener and lusher than when she had gone to sleep. It seemed longer as well, brushing coolly against her back and legs. Flowers that hadn’t been there before had sprouted at her sides, and the tree’s roots seemed a little thicker than what she remembered.

Jamie held her in his arms, comforting her, whispering in her ear that it was okay, she was okay, he was here now.

Sophie lifted her head and met Bunnymund’s grim gaze with her own exhausted one. She had a hunch he knew what was going on, but was declining on saying anything. His eyes flickered to the grass that had stopped writhing underneath her and the flowers that had seemingly blossomed overnight at her sides. He shook his head slightly, letting her know that now wasn’t the time.

 _Maybe we could talk about it later,_ Sophie thought.

“Looks like the ice curse spread,” the Pooka commented, his eyes flitting to her hand.

Jamie and Sophie looked down at her arm, almost encased in the polluted ice to the elbow.

“You won’t be able to move it soon, once it gets to the elbow,” Bunnymund continued as Jamie helped her to her feet and steadied her.

Jamie stripped his jacket off, ripping a strip off and constructing a makeshift sling for Sophie, a skill that he had recalled from boy scout training.

“Thank you, Dr. Bennett,” said Sophie.

Jamie chuckled half-heartedly. “Ha, ha, you’re a comedian.”

She beamed, and Jamie found that it was very brave of her despite the circumstances. Sophie gripped his arms and hugged him, thankful for his presence, just like all those other times she would wake up in a cold sweat calling for him. Jamie was her guardian. Her big brother.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Eh-hem,” Bunny coughed, attempting to capture their attention. Moments like these always made him feel uncomfortable, even if he was only watching.

They drew away from each other and gave Bunnymund their ears.

“Jamie, the Guardians have agreed to take you along. But,” Bunny added at Jamie’s noticeable excitement. “You will remain behind us at all times. No taking off unexpectedly. But most of all, don’t engage with Frost, under no circumstances. Got it?”

Jamie gave a nod, his expression fiercely determined. “Got it.”

“Alrighty then. Sophie, you stay here. It should be safe down here. I’ll keep a few of my Egg Warriors here, though, just in case. The rest I’m takin’ with.”

Sophie nodded.

“And we’ll talk about that dream, too, when we get back,” Bunny put in after a pause.

He and Jamie were almost to the tunnel beneath an image of North America. Bunny turned slightly to gauge Sophie’s reaction to his words.

Sophie stared back at him, seeing something underneath the concern and worry for her. It was something like trepidation—like she was a ticking time bomb, ready to blow at the smallest touch at any second. There was confusion, like she was doing something that he didn’t expect, something wrong, like she shouldn’t exist.

“Bunny?” Her voice sounded off-key. Frightened to hear the answer.

So instead, she didn’t ask the question she wanted to ask.

The Pooka was looking at her expectantly.

“Take care of my brother,” she said finally, meaning every word.

Bunnymund nodded solemnly. “I will,” he promised.

Jamie gave a final wave of good-bye before taking his leave with the Easter Bunny. “I’ll come back,” he assured her.

“I know,” she said.

And they were gone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter is It's Time by Imagine Dragons


	4. Hide and Seek

Jamie felt a sinking feeling in his stomach that had nothing to do with the fact that he was currently free-falling down a black hole—or more likely, a wormhole.

His heart wasn’t on the mission he and Bunny were currently carrying out. It had stayed behind with Sophie.

He was worried for her. What older brother wouldn’t? In their special circumstances, too, it was no wonder—Nightmare Kings, deranged best friends, helpless childhood heroes, her imminent death, a soon-to-be apocalypse. It was all too much for him. He couldn’t imagine how Sophie was taking it.

Not too well, apparently. Her reaction in Bunny’s Warren had made him especially anxious. What had she dreamed that had made her so hysterical? He hadn’t seen her have a nightmare that bad since Jack had come to say goodbye half a year ago. And another question that nagged him…

Why had the plants around her grown?                       

Jamie spared a glance up at the Pooka, whose eyes were narrowed in thought. Bunny seemed to notice Jamie’s stare, for after a moment, his own green eyes swiveled down to meet the man’s. There was a silent battle of wills before Bunny sighed and his gaze moved to the tunnels ahead. He seemed to already know Jamie’s question, and yet seemed to dread the thought of hearing it spoken aloud.

Jamie cleared his throat. “So…any ideas what that was back there?”

Bunny gave an indignant snort, but kept his eyes on the path ahead. “Right vague question that is, mate. I’m assuming you mean Sophie?”

“Who else?”

“Well,” Bunny scoffed. “There’s no need to get all huffed up ‘bout it. Very well. Mind you, my take on it may not be all that accurate. For all we know, Manny could be up to something.”

“You mean…she could have powers? She’s a Guardian? But I thought—”

“Becoming a Guardian doesn’t necessarily mean you have to die first in order to gain supernatural, or even natural for that matter, powers. Ask any of us. The only one of us who actually, per se, _died_ , was Jack, and even that’s not for sure ‘cause _technically_ , Manny saved him before he actually did bite the dust. The rest of us, including North and a few other humans, already had a built-in bit of magic in us. We were _born_ with our abilities, or gained them along the way. For some reason, Manny saw fit to _give_ powers to Jack that he hadn’t gained or been born with. Maybe Jack had latent abilities, who knows? But that’s not the point. We’re talking about Sophie here.

“Manny already knows what’s going on down on Earth, what with Jack going rogue and Pitch rising up again in rebellion. This might be his way of helping—by making Sophie a Guardian and granting her magic powers. But that’s a wild card at best. That’s taking a huge chance. A more likely explanation for the phenomena in my Warren is that the plants responded to Sophie’s dreams—”

“Nightmares,” Jamie interjected.

“Yes, nightmares. Well, the Warren’s never exactly had children sleep in it, let alone dream. The wildlife probably responded to it. It makes sense if you think about it—they’re magic plants, so naturally, the magic of powerful dreams would feed them. I’d have to ask North for sure, since he’s the actual wizard in all of this, but—”

He was interrupted by the light that blindingly flashed at the end of the tunnel, signaling their exit.

“We’ll talk about this later, mate.”

Jamie nodded his agreement. He felt the Pooka brace himself to jump off, his muscles tightening and coiling around Jamie securely, keeping him close. Jamie closed his eyes, unsure if the light would quite literally blind him if he kept them open as they went through—

And then he felt the Pooka’s arms loosen and fall away from him. He was standing on solid ground—a road, judging from the scrape of blacktop against the soles of his sneakers.

He opened his eyes.

Jamie and Bunnymund had arrived in the middle of the streets of his hometown of Burgess. It was nighttime, as they decided to conduct the hunt when the townspeople had gone to bed, or at least the majority. Luckily, this particular section of town was mostly comprised of clothing stores that were closed for Thanksgiving, and therefore deserted. He feel a little remorseful about the fact that Sophie and he were skipping an important family dinner night with their mother, but that would have to wait for some other time. Saving the world took priority for now.

Jamie was also marveling at the fact that Bunny had actually warped space and time so that they had actually traveled forward in the future. Kickass, as Jamie had called it.

"I only use it in times of emergency," Bunny had told him. "And I can only travel a day ahead or behind at the very most. Comes in handy for Easter time."

Though the Pooka was nonchalant about this bit of information, Jamie noticed he seemed edgy, as if there were something he were hiding. But the man didn’t press it and pretended he hadn’t noticed.

"Where are the others?" Jamie asked now.

After a few minutes of searching, they eventually spotted Tooth and North a little ways down the street waiting for them. They ran to catch up, and currently, were making their way to what Jamie knew what be a rabbit hole in the woods by Burgess's pond that would lead straight to Pitch's lair and ultimately to Jack.

The teen was more than slightly irritated in the three Guardians' insistence on forming a close-knit circle around him so as to keep him protected at all times from threats. It made him feel as if he couldn't defend himself, which he very well could. He would bump elbows or hips with them, they were so close. It made him feel uncomfortable and slightly claustrophobic. He felt like a child again, weak and pathetic in his innocent youth.

He would've liked to have argued with them that he wasn't a kid anymore—he could take care of himself. But he sensed it would be pointless.

Besides—it seemed like they only just tolerated his presence. He was only here because they were desperate to find Jack. And because of that, Jamie wasn't complaining. Not really.

"Still no signs of Sandy, huh?" Bunny asked conversationally after what seemed like an eternity of stifling silence between them. He was looking up at the sky as golden streams of dream sand drifted gracefully to peoples' homes where they slept. "Must've kept to his decision to stay neutral."

North shrugged. "Sandy will come around eventually."

"He'll want to if he wants to stay friends with me," Tooth said bitterly. "Taking Jack's side over mine when Jack was clearly in the wrong? Inexcusable!"

"I don't think he was really taking sides," Jamie said. "I just think he didn't want to see us fighting like that."

"And if I recall, Tooth," North said with a certain air of slyness. "You were once quite taken with Jack, no?"

"That fascination was only tooth-deep," Toothiana said gruffly. But her tone was unconsciously softer as she felt the need to explain herself. "You know? His teeth were just so perfect, and the guy was funny and nice—at least then. And he could understand the whole not-having-just-a-single-holiday-to-worry-about thing. And he was so good with my fairy minions. I just thought…"

She sighed, not having to finish herself. They all knew about the short fling Tooth had had with Jack. It had ended as quietly as it had begun.

Jamie had known of it as well because Jack had told him about it. They were best friends after all. They told each other pretty much everything. Jamie figured the relationship, if you could call it that, had ended because Jack was just still too immature for Tooth's tastes. But now he wondered if there had been something else…

"Speaking of Frost, has anyone seen the bloke?" Bunny interjected. "Any sign of the bastard?"

"Bastard?" A new voice came to them from above. "Tsk, tsk, Bunny. That's a new low, even for you."

The four tipped their heads back and looked up at a lithe figure standing tall atop a lit lamppost. It jumped and landed lightly on the balls of its feet like a cat to stare at them with yellow eyes.

"Y'know, I like the sound of 'Dark Jack Frost,' but there's just this sorta ring to 'Black Frost.' Black Frost. Yeah, I like that," Jack said. He stood from his somewhat hunched position from landing and rolled his shoulders back. "Ah! It gives me a nice chill to hear such an ominous name! You can call me Black Frost."

"Not on your nelly!" Bunny objected.

"Oh, ease up, Bunny," Jack said, raising his staff. "Or chill out, as I like to say."

The winter spirit swept his shepherd's crook through the air in front of him, summoning forth a wave of snow and ice that struck the four with enough strength to blast them off of their feet.

The last thing Jamie heard were the three Guardians shouting for him. A furred paw groped for him, grazing his arm—

_Almost—_

Jamie felt himself ripped away from the group and shoved violently through the air to crash into something with a heavy slam. His lungs collapsed as his back smashed into the brick wall of a building with the force of a bullet train. He slid to a crouch as he heaved for oxygen. It felt as if an elephant had stomped on his chest. He thought he heard something snap like a twig, however muffled by his crying out in agony. He could taste the blood that was filling his mouth. Pain was sharp as he felt something tearing at his insides every time he fought to breathe.

But he couldn't breathe.

He felt like he was going to vomit.

"I've seen your sister take more damage," Jack's voice said. It sounded as if he were far away, like there was a wall between them. But Jamie could see bare feet standing just a foot away from where he was sitting. "She was in a lot more pain than you, and she was still able to fight back. What about you, Jamie? You gonna fight back—or are you just gonna sit there and take it?"

He thought he could hear the Guardians calling his name and looking for him, but then again, he could be imagining things. The voices seemed so distant, so faint. For all he knew, he probably had a concussion.

Blood trickled down Jamie’s forehead, soaking his bangs and smearing over his eyebrows. He could feel it ooze out with his pulse, faster and thicker with each beat. He could feel it in his throbbing head. Some of the blood made its way to the curve of the bridge of his nose and seeped to the hollows of his eyes. Jamie frantically wiped at it, trying to keep his vision clear. He tried to think, but his thoughts were cloudy and disconnected, thin and whispery like vapor in a graveyard. His ears were buzzing, but Jack had said something…Jack…

Jack…and Sophie…Jack had hurt her?

Anger made his head pound, blinding him in rage and pain for a moment. But…

But he said, too, that she had fought back…

 _Then that’s what I’ll do, dammit. If Jack thinks a cracked rib is gonna discourage me,_  Jamie thought.  _He's_ wrong.

Haltingly, Jamie stood and glared evenly at Jack. For a moment, he was able to hold it, but there was something inside him that couldn't be bitter, even with his best friend. Not really.

Was the concussion making his mood swing? He wanted to laugh. Maybe he was just weak. His mind was swimming deliriously from blood loss and pain.

Something seemed to crack. He wondered somewhere in the back of his mind if it was his ribs, or if it was his resolve, or maybe both. Either way, this was it. The ultimate betrayal, Jamie was dying, and yet… _and yet still…_

His vision was fading.

Jack’s face was pulled into a snarl, basking in Jamie’s pain like it was therapeutic. An image of the old Jack Frost flashed before his eyes, only this Jack’s smile was genuine and warm like sunshine, his eyes full of concern and kindness, blue as they were as the day. But the image cracked, shattered, and faltered, fading like his vision. Lost. The old Jack had been forever replaced with this faulty shadow of a copy. And he wanted to be angry and punish his friend, but he just couldn’t. He was too tired and in too much pain. And because he couldn’t raise a hand to this Jack without remembering the old one.

Jamie's face seemed to crumble under Jack's harsh stare. There was only sadness in his heart now—for in that instant, he knew that his friend was truly lost.

 _He hurt Soph. Jack hurt my little sister...he hurt me, too,_  he thought. The old Jack was gone now. It had been made painfully, obviously clear. But...

_...But I could never hurt him._

_After all...he's my..._

"I could never…" Jamie began, but trailed off. He could feel his voice cracking with emotion and physical pain, but he couldn't just stop now. It was a wonder he could talk at all, though, and the fact that he could left him feeling eternally grateful. Blood was dribbling down his chin as he fought to form words.

"I just want my friend back," the boy said simply.

Jack's eyes, almost luminescent in the dark lighting, seemed to crack. His wry expression faltered.

For a small moment within a moment, there had appeared a miracle. A flash of light in the darkness.

There had been a chink in Jack's armor.

But then the winter spirit seemed to realize his weakening. His gaze hardened, and his face twisted with a bitter smile.

"Nice try, Jamie. I admit that even I was fooled by the sincerity in your words. At least for a second," Jack said, twirling his staff. He pointed the shepherd's hook at Jamie, inky-blue light gathering in a mass at the end in preparation of attack. "But it's too late for that now—"

A boomerang whizzed by in close proximity to Jack's face, very nearly a glancing blow before whipping harmlessly past.

But Jack heeded its message. He lowered his staff and turned to face a steely-eyed Pooka standing on the top of one of the flat roofs of downtown Burgess. As he locked eyes with him, Tooth and North reinforced Bunny's sides.

"That was close, Kangaroo," Jack mocked. "But not close enough."

With a yell, the winter spirit swung his staff in a wide arc, raising up a gust of blizzard snow that forced them to close their eyes and cover their faces to keep the stinging cold air out.

After a minute or so, the storm faded, and the Guardians were rewarded with renewed clear vision.

"I'd love to stay and chat, but I have places to be, things to do—that sort of thing," Jack called from his place high in the air. He was floating and balancing expertly after years of practice on his staff. "You know—taking over the world in a couple of days takes a lot of work!"

"Two days?" North went wide-eyed. "But that's…"

"The lunar eclipse," Jack finished, letting loose a harsh laugh. "Kinda obvious, don't you think? It's a wonder you didn't figure it out sooner! I mean,  _come on!_  Lunar eclipse. Where the shadow of the Earth blocks out the light of the moon? It's perfect conditions for a sworn enemy of the Man in the Moon, who also controls  _shadows_ , to take over the world. Guys, this stuff is so simple to get. It's baby stuff!

"Oh, and speaking of babies. Before I forget, Jamie, I need an answer from you by the eclipse, or else your sister's gonna bite the dust! In two days, Pitch and I'll be kings of a new world. We'll destroy all the cities of the world one by one and rebuild them as we see fit—starting with Burgess."

As Jack finished speaking, the north wind picked up, almost turbulent in its intensity. It caught Jack's limber body and took him with it as it moved toward the pond and woods beyond it. Jack's laugh came to them distantly, an unheeded echo.

* * *

 

Below, a man was lying motionless in the middle of a small town and near ghost-like in his very presence, drowning in his own puddle of blood. The Guardians of Childhood made their way to the broken, dying man spread prone on his chest, collapsed after their intervention, in the street. They carefully shifted him to hold him in their arms one last time before letting go, whispering words of encouragement.

Because they knew this had to end, all of it had to end, at some point. It had gone too far. This had too far involved a child's life. And tonight, it was clear that time to let go was sooner than later.

So they breathed their last bits of advice in tones that implied imminent farewell. A final good-bye.

"Never forget what's important."

"Keep your eyes wide open."

"Never lose hope."

 _And follow your dreams,_  came the fourth voice from what they knew was among the stars, watching over them.

* * *

 

The four of them stood there in a lopsided circle around their oldest believer. Sandy had come when he'd felt Jamie slip into the unconscious, and had agreed to keep the boy—man—asleep while the others conducted their business. That, and he had wanted to be there…the last time Jamie would ever believe in him again, whether conscious or no.

The hospital rooms were sterile white and utilitarian. They smelled of bleach and starched uniforms and all that was synthetic. The Guardians looked out of place and out of their element here, but they didn't give any hint of discomfort at their surroundings.

"It's decided then," Bunny said at last after a heavy silence. It had been a mourning sort of silence, one that had lasted insufferably too long. He'd held his breath throughout it, only releasing it now after nearly bursting.

North nodded. "There is a good reason they stop believing at a young age."

"It's too dangerous," Tooth said sadly. Her mauve eyes traced the new rugged, chiseled features that were no longer that of a child's but of a grown man. A man who still had much of life still to live...without them.

"It's best if we wipe his memories. Make him forget. Stop believing," Bunny said gruffly. "After the ankle-biter's cured, we wipe her memory, too."

"It's the safest," Tooth agreed.

"Tooth?" North locked gazes with her, but quickly looked away after seeing the sadness there, and a similar feeling stirred in his gut. He nodded, not really seeing anymore.

Tooth stretched out a hand, letting it hover over Jamie's forehead.

It looked so small compared to the broadness of his face.

Slowly, she laid her hand over Jamie's temple, and in one smooth motion, caressed his brow in a gentle sweeping movement, using her magic in that simple touch to erase all memories of ever meeting the Guardians…and Jack.

* * *

 

She let it linger there, one last touch that could no longer be felt, before pulling away as if she'd been burned.

"It's done," she mumbled.

Looking up, one could see the grief reflected in one another's eyes.

Tooth stole one last glimpse of Jamie Bennett, their oldest believer yet. Almost twenty years of unwavering faith. Tooth grit her teeth, a low snarl at the back of her throat. Her sadness was giving way under the weight of newfound anger.  _You_ will  _pay for this. If you ever pay for anything, you will pay for this. Mark my words. It's my personal promise._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is Hide and Seek by Imogen Heap


	5. Fallen

The first hint had been the shiver.

Why had he shivered?

He couldn’t—no, it was impossible—he _couldn’t_ be cold. Jack Frost did _not_ get cold.

But yet, there he was, Jack Frost, shivering, sniffing slightly to keep the snot in his red nose up his nostrils where it belonged, his teeth chattering so hard he almost bit off his tongue too many times to count. His bare hands could feel the gooseflesh pimpling his skin. His hair stood on end to gain more heat. And his exposed feet felt numb. No, no, no, no, no…

This couldn’t be happening.

There was no sound save for the occasional shifting of ice, a sharp _crack, crack, crackle_ and _snap_ , a sort of shatter and clattering of broken pieces not unlike glass. The shards skittered helter-skelter as he fell, suspended in space, cold air rushing past him like lost memories. The sounds roared in his ears like beasts, monsters, demons. The ice tiptoed across his eardrums and made him shiver.

Their innocence was lost.

Childhood innocence that incited one to believe in things that were otherworldly or otherwise intangible, unreadily seen. Innocence like that could be mistaken for naivety, but the Guardians knew it was more like faith.

If innocence were tangible, it would be strings tied to Jack like a puppet. He was the children’s marionette, he guessed. If you cut the strings, he’d fall flat, a useless doll.

And Jack was falling now.

He’d been flying over Moscow, on his way to Siberia and from there, Alaska. Jack had felt his exhaustion, but felt it bone-deep, and something at the back of his mind nagged him like something wasn’t right. But he’d blamed it on the long journey through the tropics on his way up from southern Argentina and surprise light snow for the Highveld in South Africa. He’d been thinking about stopping by in Australia and razzing the old rabbit even.

Then, abruptly, he froze midair, feeling something like daggers being driven through his chest. Even as he’d looked down at himself and saw no blood or whatever essence there was that was contained in magical beings, he’d hollered out into the winds as the knives twisted in a sadistic fashion inside of him. He doubled over, wrapping his arms around his torso to keep it in.

He knew then, when he fell a moment later, that numerous children had stopped believing in him.

And it was awful because he’d almost wished that he’d died instead. At least then, they’d still remember him. He felt sick and empty knowing so many had stopped believing he even existed in the first place. It wasn’t his fault he was invisible! He couldn’t touch them, make them see, smell, hear him. And what did that leave him? Snow and ice and frost.

The strings had been cut, and he could almost see their gossamer, spider-silk threads tearing away from him. He mourned the loss of childhood innocence and faith. Simple joys had been ripped away from adolescents, and now, he could feel them grow into their mature adulthood. It pained him. Because here he was, a Peter Pan of sorts—a boy on the cusp of manhood but would never quite reach it because he couldn’t age, would never grow up. He was simultaneously grieving for and jealous of these children who dropped their faith in him and in turn dropped him.

Jack plummeted and hit the ground hard, though the agony of the fall wasn’t nearly as painful as the injuries done to his heart. He gripped his staff, using it as a crutch as he limped forward through the snow he’d made not hours ago out of the goodness of his heart. Now, he only found it a nuisance as it hindered his progress across the graveyard he’d landed in, which he immediately recognized as Novodevichy Cemetery.

There was only one place he felt he could go to for help—Burgess. His home. Perhaps the pond could somehow restore his powers—it had been the site of his rebirth as Jack Frost, after all. If not that, then he would find Jamie and/or Sophie and explain to them his predicament. They could find more believers for him and heal him that way, he guessed.

He found that after resting for a bit on his feet, he could fly again. Though he could only fly so fast and low to the ground, he knew it was better than trying to walk his way to another continent.

By the time he made it to Pennsylvania, he had returned to walking, though that and the heat sapped his strength just as fast as flying would have, he supposed. There was a tiny bud of bitterness that had settled in his chest. It seemed to grow with each weary step he took before he collapsed at the edge of the pond.

His relief turned to despair as he found it was having no effect on him. Tears stung at his eyes, but he refused to cry. No, he absolutely could _not_ cry. He was Jack Frost. Guardian of Fun. Guardians of Fun didn’t cry under any circumstances.

With that determined thought in mind, he blinked away his tears. His muscles burned with newfound energy and he knew his eyes were blazing with a crazed fire as he struggled to pick himself up on his feet again.

But it was of no use. He was too weak and too exhausted to stand and walk now.

He’d have to settle for crawling.

And so he did, using elbows, knees, hands, feet, even his _chin_ to drag himself meager inches forward. He would find the Bennett siblings and enlist their help—he was desperate now, and terrified. What would happen to him if they had stopped believing in him, too? Would he have died? Would he have been left there to suffer the pain and torment, in a state of half-consciousness for all of eternity? Would he…would he…

Would he cease to exist?

 _Stop,_ he told himself. _Just stop. That’s not helping. Stop thinking about those things. Just concentrate on getting yourself to Jamie or Sophie. That’s all that matters now._

And if they couldn’t help him?

 _They have an emergency snow globe that North gave them. They can contact one of the others if they need to,_ he said silently, reassuring himself.

His head was now blissfully quiet now. He noticed changes that made him panic, however. Such as how he was drenched head to toe in what he figured was half sweat from physical exertion and his fever, and half was melted ice…which meant that Jack Frost was thawing.

His theory was proven correct when a stray few strands of hair fell in his face. They were not the silvery-white he’d grown accustomed to over the last three hundred years. Rather, they were the warm brunette he only recently remembered had been his original, natural color from the life before he’d been Jack Frost.

He assumed his eyes had changed back as well, the blue darkening to a common brown the same color as his hair.

Halfway through the woods he felt his body give out on him, no matter how hard his mind tried to tell it to do otherwise. Fatigue was overwhelming him, and with a cry of muffled frustration, he collapsed to the ground.

His eyes seem to fall closed of their own accord, they were so heavy, and slowly, he felt himself rolling, rolling…

And then he was plunging into darkness. He mentally cursed himself, suddenly sure that he knew where he was, what he had fallen into…

He tumbled for a short while down a cavernous passage before his back hit cold stone.

His eyes fluttered open, and the sight that rewarded him confirmed his suspicions.

He was in Pitch’s lair.

He’d fallen down the hole that the Nightmare King had been banished to eleven years ago by his own fear of his Nightmares.

“My, my, my…what a… _surprise_ …”

Speak of the devil.

Jack tried to move, but his body just simply wouldn’t obey. _Oh well,_ he thought to himself. _It’s a pretty useless attempt anyways. It would’ve been difficult facing off against Pitch at full power. I don’t stand a chance when I’m this weak._

“Tsk, tsk, tsk…”

Shadows and black shapes morphed in and out of focus, writhing anxiously on the walls and at the sides of Pitch, whispering his doubts back aloud.

Pitch’s long, ashy-pale face hovered over his own, molten silver-gold eyes burning like eager fires into him. “Hello, Jack.” The Boogeyman smiled.

At Jack’s silence, Pitch pulled back, bringing a finger to his chin and tapping it thoughtfully, casually pacing in a circle around the fallen winter spirit. “I don’t suppose you can talk back in your _condition_ , can you? Though I must say that that’s an improvement.”

Jack mentally rolled his eyes.

“Oh, but do you know what this means, Jack?” Pitch laughed as again, Jack remained silent, unable to respond or give a witty retort. “This is it! This is how I can get revenge! Here I was, biding my time, thinking to myself, _how can I make those_ Guardians _miserable? How do I exact eleven years’ worth of hiding in fear and shame in this hellhole?_ I had made up my mind to use the children, Jack. You know those ones that live in that quaint barnyard house? I think you know the one.”

Jack’s mind whirled. The Bennett house? It was an old modified red barn, remodeled by a now-deceased Mr. Bennett and still very much alive Mrs. Bennett, as Jamie had told him.

“Ah, yes, judging from the frantic look in your eyes, you must know…Jamie…and Sophie, was it…? Still believing in fairytales at their age is quite the miracle, don’t you think? Wouldn’t it be _oh so tragic_ if all those near twenty years of faith suddenly crumbled? Wouldn’t it just simply be _awful_ if something happened to them?”

Jack wanted to scream, _don’t touch them!_ But it was like there was something caught in his throat, as if something was choking his words.

He realized it was the Nightmares, the Fearlings, the Nightmare men, and the Dream Pirates, all swarming about them in a tight black storm. They sucked his courage away, stole the air from his lungs like thieves. They kept him absolutely paralyzed, unable to even lift a finger to defend himself. He’d thought up until now it had been his exhaustion holding him back, but he knew now that this was not the case.

“Oh, don’t worry, old friend. I’m not going to touch them now. Not now that I have _you_ ,” Pitch sneered. “You see Jack, all along I’ve always wanted _you._ Because you understand me in no way other legendary figures could. You understood why I did the things I did without knowing my past, my… _redeeming_ qualities, you could say. Maybe you didn’t agree with my actions,” he quickly amended. “But you _understand me_ , Jack. You know what it’s like to long for a family, to be alone, to be not believed in. Maybe you don’t trust me, or I you. But we are connected in a way no other two figures of myth are, Jack, and that’s undeniable.”

Jack did his best to glare at Pitch, but knew it was a feeble attempt at best. He felt it fall flat. He wanted to deny Pitch’s accusations and his reasonings, and yet, he knew he’d be lying to himself if he did. He knew Pitch was right. But he didn’t have to accept that.

“And of course, your sheer amount of _power_ is a wonderful incentive as well. Remember what I told you, Jack—what goes better together than cold and darkness? And your power is definitely immense. You probably don’t even know the full extent of it yourself! I wouldn’t be surprised, considering you haven’t frozen the whole planet over yet. But if you join me, Jack, I could show you. I could teach you so many things! And we’ll rule the world, side by side, as equals of course. We’ll be kings of the new world. You’ll never end up like this again, Jack. You’ll always be believed in. So what do you say, Jack?”

He wanted to say something along the lines of sticking his offer where the sun don’t shine, but his mouth was still locked shut. He couldn’t speak. Then again, did he really want to? What if his doubts got the better of him—that he didn’t like being incapacitated and weak from disbelief like this, that secretly, he wanted to be respected like a king, like an actual living thing that needed to be believed in, because if he didn’t, he thinks he’ll stop believing in himself, and then what will be left of him? What if he said _yes_?

“Well, there’s always the option of _forcing_ you to join me,” Pitch said, his voice dark with threat and slightly gleeful. “I’m in control now, Jack, and now you have to do whatever I say. My creatures of darkness have a way of making one change their mind.” The Boogeyman’s grin split ear to ear. “Here, let me show you.”

And then they were on him, these monstrosities of the night that tackled him and swallowed him whole. They consumed him in a blind darkness and left him feeling sullied, soiled, tainted, dirty, unholy, polluted, contaminated, corrupted. These intense emotions of disgust only heightened when they reached a finger, a hand, a wrist, an arm, shoulder, torso, and more down his throat, up his nose, in his ears, his eyes, invading him, filling him with black. They were choking him, clogging his conscience. They were like solid inky smoke, thick like sludged oil, burning acridly with sulfur fumes and chafing like the rocky edges of coal. He felt them grab hold of his darker emotions bottled-up for so long inside of him—three hundred or so years worth of them—anger, sadness, jealousy, all of them until they consumed him, and he thought he would be crushed under the weight of it all.

But it become a sort of armor for him, a shell to protect his bitter soul, and he accepted it as a reprieve from feeling anymore sort of hurt or pain. It was so easy, and he laughed at the simplicity of it all. It was all so clear now. Destroy the source of misery, and you were okay again.

Why hadn’t he thought of this before?

No one else mattered now, but himself. It was so easy, like a burden had been lifted from his shoulders. He didn’t have to worry about anyone else but himself. Why hadn’t he seen that before? The anchors of friends, family, believers that had tied him down released him. None of that was important now. It was just him. Him and him alone, just like always, only now there was no bitterness at the fact—only a sort of bliss.

* * *

 

Pitch watch the shadows devour Jack Frost in a frenzy, whispering in a cacophony of voices and animal-like growls and snarls, almost demonic. The cloud of darkness stilled, then, and he wondered if something had gone wrong. But then he was reassured as he heard a black laugh that wasn’t his permeate the underground. Goosebumps rose on his shoulders and down his spine at the sound, and he smirked in satisfaction.

Jack Frost emerged from the black mist, which shifted like a fond lover about him, roiling in curls of shadow off his shoulders and fingertips like blown-out candles. Pitch marveled at his new appearance, took note of the way his flushed skin had faded to a similar gray tone to his own skin. The black ink of shadows fluttered and made the cloth of his sweater shift like it was alive. Yes, Jack Frost now looked like a proper partner of the Nightmare King now.

Jack listened with interest on how to relieve himself of Guardianship in order to gain his full power back. The teenager smirked, already regaining enough strength to fly back the way he’d come before the last word was out of Pitch’s mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an explanation for how Jack joined Pitch in the first place. I'm sorry if it throws you off regarding timeline specifics, but honestly, I don't give a shit. This is my story. I do what I want.
> 
> I wanted to get a feel for Pitch and Jack's relationship before I went into more conversations between them. I'm not a BlackIce shipper, but I think the dynamic between them is cool as partners and also as enemies. I think a friendship between the two would be really interesting as well. But hey, if you really want, you can leave some of it to your imagination and pretend that I really am coupling them. (Even though I will not elaborate or say outright really or even suggest they are romantically interested in each other). That's up to you guys, the fans. Like I said, I don't give a shit.
> 
> The song for this chapter is...you guessed it (probably not though) Fallen by Imagine Dragons


	6. Nothing Left to Say/Rocks

There it was again. That dreaded feeling of a knife being shoved through his chest, grinding against his spine and cutting through his lungs, shattering his ribs. The breath went out of him as the hated familiar white-hot pain shot through him. And yet, there was something…something _sharply_ different from any of his previous encounters with losing a believer. This pain was both searing hot and ice-cold at the same time, tingling and reverberating throughout his body. From his fingertips to his toes, it raged with a sort of acute vengeance. 

 _“Jamie!”_ The name was ripped from him, tearing away from him in a scream. He had felt it—he somehow _knew_ it was Jamie, his first believer, who had forgotten him, omitted his faith. Jamie had stopped believing in Jack.

The fact of it made Jack crumple to his knees and hold his reeling head in his hands. He moaned as a splitting headache set in.

He understood why the others had stopped believing in him. He knew perfectly well why. After all, the majority of them lived in the Northern Hemisphere, where his name was at least somewhat mentioned here or there in a passing musing or poem or short story. And when he left, the summer would take over and burn him out. Most of his believers were at just the right age, too, on the precipice between childhood and adolescence where double digits meant time to stop believing in fairytales.

But this—this he just couldn’t understand. Why had Jamie stopped believing in him? He couldn’t grasp the logic behind it. Jamie had been his believer a solid eleven years and was a young adult, so he knew that he wasn’t just imagining things when he interacted with Jack or any of the others. His little sister believed, too, and Jamie always believed his sister. So why…?

“Jack? What’s wrong? Why’re you screaming?” Pitch was standing a distance from Jack, giving him room. His voice was irritated, but also concerned. Jack’s scream had alarmed him in its intensity. Was he hurt? Were they being attacked? Or was he just throwing a temper tantrum? The Nightmare King wouldn’t put it past Jack to have a total meltdown over something that hadn’t gone his way. Hell, Pitch would even admit to having a few himself. The shadows just didn’t simply let you bottle up your frustration like you otherwise would have.

 _“Jamie,”_ Jack gasped.

The name seemed to answer Pitch’s question. “Ah, I see,” Pitch said, his tone now sympathetic. “Oh, Jack, I’m so sorry.”

Jack growled at Pitch, reasonably believing the pitying voice was insincere.

Pitch seemed to catch Jack’s insinuation. He gave a growl of his own. “Don’t you think I know what it’s like? It hurt when _my_ first believer stopped believing in me, too, Jack. It happens. You just have to accept that.”

 _“Shut up,”_ Jack snarled, not in the mood.

Pitch backed off, but pondered why the Bennett boy had stopped believing in Jack. The answer came easily enough. “The Guardians must’ve come to the conclusion that Jamie was no longer of any use to them, and they erased his memories somehow, probably with the help of that pesky fairy, after they decided it best to keep him out of their mess. And to prevent your uprising. Your first believer can’t lift the oath if he doesn’t believe in you anymore.” That seemed logical enough for the Big Four to eliminate Jack’s first believer and keep Jamie from lifting Jack’s Oath. Though…the very thought of it didn’t sit right for some reason… Pitch’s eyes narrowed. “Or, something happened to make them rash. The action _is_ desperate… _Jack._ ” Pitch’s voice was sharp and accusing now, directing Jack’s attention to himself. Jack lifted his head slightly.

“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that would you?” Pitch said testily. “How badly did you wound Jamie?”

Jack’s silence confirmed Pitch’s suspicions, making Pitch roar in outrage.

“Jack! You’ve ruined _everything!_ Because you couldn’t hold yourself back, you gravely injured one of the key parts and inevitably compromised it of our world domination!”

“Don’t you think I _know_ that?” Jack snapped, his words reminiscent of Pitch’s from earlier. His voice suddenly became uncannily quiet. “I _know._ Okay? I know I screwed up. You don’t have to tell me that. I know.”

Pitch released his held breath. “We can still continue on with the plan. All is not lost. We just have to make the Guardians see our way. Make them release you of your Guardianship.”

Jack didn’t answer. Pitch took that as his cue to leave his partner to his own devices and mull his feelings over.

* * *

 

Was he feeling guilty?

No, it couldn’t be. Not after all he’d done so far. Not now of all times.

But he knew he was lying to himself.

But why? Why feel guilty now? After all, he’d done other atrocious things that could be considered just as heinous, if not more.

_Because you thought you killed him._

The thought jolted him. He had thought that, in the very back of his mind, maybe Jamie’s belief had disappeared because he’d died…which meant Jack had killed him. His attack _had_ blasted the man with enough force to break a few ribs, maybe knock his skull hard enough to cause hemorrhaging. There had been blood.

There had been a _lot_ of blood. Gushing from the gashes in his head, spilling over like thick cranberry syrup over Jamie’s deathly pale face, over his dark eyes like morbid tears, pouring from his mouth, smearing over his white teeth and white lips.

And just before Jack had departed from the scene, he’d spoken to Jamie from his spot in the sky, gazing down at his unresponsive, fallen form.

Jamie had been so still…Jack had thought…

He shuddered at that last image.

Because what if Pitch was wrong and Jamie had died?

He would carry that guilt with him for the rest of his existence, a proverbial shadow that could become quite literal in the company of Pitch’s Fearlings and Nightmare men and other creatures. It would hover over him, getting darker and heavier each time he would be reminded of Jamie Bennett.

And if the Guardians really had taken away Jamie’s memories? Well, damn them, the whole lot of them.

Jack would still be guilty anyways. He had incited their precaution by wounding the nineteen year-old lethally.

So the winter spirit hung his head and drowned himself in self-pity.

* * *

 

“So there’s nothing left to say now?” Sophie’s voice was harsh with anger. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

“Look, young lady—”

 _“Young lady?”_ Sophie was fuming.

“Look, Sophie. I know you’re not happy about the situation. None of us are. But we can’t change it now. We just have to go with it,” Bunnymund said, exasperated.

“Why can’t I see my brother?”

“You can. In a little bit. You just have to wait.”

“Let me guess—after I lose my memory?”

Bunny sighed. “Sheila, look. I can only do so much here.”

Sophie crossed her arms. “Fine. Then I’m coming with. You owe me.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. He gave her a pleading look. Giving her the bad news that her brother was in the hospital with four broken ribs, a punctured, near collapsed lung, a severe concussion, and his memory wiped clean of the Guardians had not sat well with her. He’d watched her eyes shatter, growing wide first in disbelief and shellshock, the spring green irises fracturing under pressure and dulling into the same color as a summer storm.

When he had told her about Jack, her expression had immediately hardened, the worry lines and anxious creases smoothing. Her face was a flat mask, but her gaze was burning with absolute fury and rage. Hatred had lined her words like jalapeno peppers—red-hot and fiery.

It didn’t suit her, Bunny thought privately. She was always so quiet and gentle and peaceable. But touch the people she loved, even if it _was_ Jack, she flipped the switch like light and dark—day and night.

She’d changed, he suddenly realized. He didn’t know when or where, couldn’t put a time or place to this indisputable and suddenly obvious fact, and he found this bothered him. That he hadn’t known, hadn’t instinctually felt it, hadn’t seen. He had the sudden urge to travel backwards to that precise moment when things had changed for her before her very eyes, where reality had set in and forced her to adapt to its cruelty in order to survive. He wanted to travel back in time and save her innocence, though he knew this was against the rules—rules that he had laid down as the very law of the universe and defended with his undying determination up until this very moment.

Bunny supposed it was because she hadn’t stopped believing. The Guardians felt their believers’ innocence die when they ceased believing in them, but because she never stopped, none of them had ever felt it disappear.

He tried to excuse his guilt with this explanation. He tried, and yet, the anguish persisted, unabashed.

“I know what you’re thinking, Bunny,” Sophie said now, her eyes level with his.

Bunny jumped slightly. He hadn’t spoken aloud, had he?

“I’m not a kid anymore.”

Bunny narrowed his eyes at her. She was a whopping thirteen years old. Sure she wasn’t a kid anymore. But she wasn’t exactly an adult yet.

Sophie’s eyebrows pulled over her eyes, hooding them in dark shadow to show her displeasure. “I know I’m not that old either. I’m barely older than a decade. That probably isn’t much in your eyes, but trust me. I know what I need to do. I need to be there with you guys. Not just because, _logically_ I need to for Jack to lift the curse, but also for Jamie. For my brother.”

“It’s exactly because of your brother that I don’t want you there, and neither do any of the others! Jack’s too much of a threat and your brother getting hurt is proof that you won’t stand a chance against him either. Look, Sophie, I know you’re trying to help, but let us take care of it. Please.”

Sophie shut her eyes. “Bunnymund. I know, okay? I get it. I understand. But don’t you _dare_ tell me I’m not strong. I _know_ I’m strong. And I don’t need people like you doubting me and telling me I can’t do something. I can and I will—god— _goddammit!_ ” There. There it was. That scream she’d been needing to let out. She swore, and she swore like a sailor because it felt good to get it all out. She couldn’t care less about trying to be peaceful— _goddammit—_ because now was not the damn time. Now was the time to do something about it, and if no one was going to do it, then she damn well would! Hatred was burning in her gut now. Her precious people—her brother had been hurt ruthlessly by her childhood friend and her brother’s own best friend and by gods if she wouldn’t be ruthless back. There would be no mercy now.

“I just don’t need to be told what to do when I’ve already made up my mind. If it was anything else—if it wasn’t for someone I loved like Jamie—then I wouldn’t care. I would let you do what you have to do because I _do_ get it. I know I’m no physical or mental match for Jack, but dammit if I can’t throw a few words his way that he deserves to have shit on him.”

Bunny had been staring stonily at first, but his expression turned incredulous when she had an outburst of profanities that made him blush shamefully under all of his fur. Thankfully she couldn’t see. At her last words, he actually laughed, because hell if they weren’t thinking one and the same thing. Maybe there _was_ a reason she was his favorite believer.

“I know, sheila,” Bunny gasped between giggles. “I was gonna give him a piece of my mind, too, and a new permanent imprint of my foot on his backside if you know what I mean.”

She laughed.

He sighed deeply, breathing through his nose as he ran a paw back over his head and over his flattened long ears. “I don’t like it, but if you’re right about one thing, it’s that you have to be there for when Jack lifts the curse, I’m afraid. But you’ve got some spirit, sheila, and I’ll give you that.”

Sophie grinned at him. “So it’s settled then. I’m coming with.” It wasn’t a question. She knew all along.

Bunny grunted. “I suppose so. But _please_ , Sophie. Don’t do anything reckless. I’m already failing the Guardians. The last time I gave your brother permission to come along…and…I don’t want that to happen to you. I don’t want you to get hurt or…worse.”

“Dead,” Sophie supplied bluntly. Her expression was calmly blank.

Bunny flinched, turning to look anywhere but at her.

 _If she’s already accepted the fact that she could die so easily in this,_ Bunnymund thought. _What does the future bode for us?_

“Alright, ankle-biter. Now go to sleep,” he finally said after a while. He spun to face her—

And found her passed out on the ground at his feet.

He chuckled softly at the sight. She must’ve been more exhausted than she let on. He thought it was uncharacteristically stubborn of her. But then again, what was characteristic for her now, and what wasn’t?

“Bunny,” Sophie mumbled, her tongue clumsy from sleep. Her hand snagged on the fur at his ankle and tugged at it insistently.

Or perhaps the old Sophie wasn’t all gone—hadn’t all changed on him.

He shook his head with a small smile. “Oh, ankle-biter,” he sighed. He stared a moment at her, eyes shooting between her and the hand on his ankle. “Oh, alright. Just this once, though.”

Bunnymund lay down on the soft, plush grass beside her, shifting to arrange himself comfortably around her so as not to wake her up. He closed his eyes, knowing that while he couldn’t sleep, he could meditate and gain some semblance of relaxation.

He could still feel her clutching his ankle to herself like a stuffed animal, too.

* * *

 

Memories were replaying fondly for Sophie.

It was the three of them—her, Jamie, and Jack—her and her two boys. Always the three of them.

Well. At least during the cooler months.

Jack would wake them up in the early morning by pelting snowballs at their windows; pebbles if they didn’t wake right away. They would giggle, excited squealing giggles, and scurry outside to find their friend and hurry to play with him until dinnertime rolled around too soon.

Sometimes Jack would sneak into their house at night and watch movies with them, often making comments that made them choke on their popcorn and soda and slap him on the back. He’d play board games and cheat and refuse to admit to it. Same with card games. He’d put on shows for them, making up outrageous stories or telling them an adventure he went on. He’d play pranks on them, mostly on Jamie, but a few on her. They pulled a few of their own revenge ones on him.

They’d go sledding, skating. They’d make snowmen and forts. They loved snowball fights the best.

Sometimes Jack would even follow them to school and sit in class with them when he was extra bored. It was always a special treat when he did. But they’d had to try to keep quiet when Jack would give ludicrous comments on their lessons, fighting not to laugh. A snort would always escape and they’d be stuck in detention with Jack, who would say something like “finally, now we don’t have to listen to that old bat anymore. I was going cuckoo staying in one place like that,” which would crack them up even more. It made Sophie suspect if he was ADHD.

But sometimes— _sometimes—_ he’d let them in a little bit and talk about serious stuff. It was mostly with Jamie, but still. She would hear every now and again.

He would talk about something as trivial as what he’d done that day—the kids he met and got to believe in him, or just any kids or funny people he’d seen. He’d talk about relationships, how he didn’t know really how to be romantic and how it was hard to be with Tooth like that; he wasn’t mature enough, he said. He said he missed his family and would think about them every day—mostly his little sister. He talked about the other Guardians.

He took Jamie on trips around the world with him sometimes, when Jamie wasn’t busy and begged Jack. Sophie was too little, too young to come on these trips. She hadn’t objected. She was the peacemaker, after all.

Sure, she felt a little left out sometimes. But she didn’t hold it against them. Jamie and Jack had a strong bond. And she just couldn’t bring herself to come between that.

And sure, she felt a little lonelier this way. She didn’t exactly have friends…just kids who were friendly _to_ her and didn’t make fun of her shortness or her old awkward glasses or her braces (both of which she’d since outgrown, the glasses replaced with contacts) or her clumsiness. Maybe that was why she was glued to Jamie’s hip. Jack was distant with her, it seemed. He was less outspoken around her and seemed to prefer Jamie’s company over hers. And she couldn’t begrudge either of them that.

And maybe…she felt a little bitter. But that wasn’t going to make things better for her. So she could brush it off easier more times than not.

She could still remember the first time Jamie formally introduced her to their friend.

* * *

 

_“Sophie! Look, it’s my friend Jack Frost!” Jamie shouted, running out into the cold with his little sister._

_“Where? Where?” She whipped her head around the yard, searching for the boy her big brother had described to her. Her blonde hair flew in a wave as she looked._

_“Over there!” Jamie pointed to a spot by their box-elder tree._

_Sophie followed the line of his finger, her eyes widening with her smile as she saw him—Jack Frost with white hair and a blue hoodie standing barefoot in the snow, his blue eyes conveying his mixed surprise and glee._

_“Jack Frost!” Sophie squealed before taking off straight for Jack._

_Jack bent down to scoop Sophie up into his arms and swing her in a circle before setting her on his shoulders and charging like a bull around the lawn, occasionally launching off the ground in a prolonged jump with the help of flying magic._

_“Careful, Jack! That’s my sister that’s riding on your shoulders!” Jamie warned._

_Jack laughed. “Don’t worry, kid! I used to have a sister, you know!”_

_The shock was evident on Jamie’s face. “You did? How—when—I thought—”_

_“What? You thought I was just born this way? I had a life before this…” Jack scrunched up his face as he sought to describe whatever his life was now. “I had friends. I had a family. I had a little sister, just like you.”_

_Jack let that set in and watched as Jamie’s face turned sad. “So…”_

_“They’re gone now,” Jack supplied, his voice soft, but not sad. Maybe wistful, but never sad. “A long time ago.”_

_“How long?”_

_“Three hundred years ago, give or take.”_

_“Wow, Jack, you’re old.”_

_“Hey, take that back, you little squirt! Get back here! C’mon, Soph, let’s get him!” Jack shouted, indignant._

_“Get him! Get him!” Sophie chanted, giggling._

_“That explains the white hair! You’re a grandpa!”_

_“Hey, watch it! You little pipsqueak! I’m seventeen!”_

_“Yeah, maybe in your dreams!”_

_“I am!”_

_“You may look seventeen, but inside you’re all wrinkly and gross!”_

_“You’re just jealous!”_

_And like that, all the pity and hurt for Jack’s past had been placated._

* * *

 

They, the three of them like that, had been as close as siblings, triplets, a threesome as soul mates, and moments like these, these fond memories of the golden aged past, honey painting the pages already with sugary-sweet coating like old-time photographs collapsed. They were just that—of a different time, a different age. Preserved in a past life, never to be returned to or relived. This she could accept. No longer would or could the past hold her back—that was the difference between her and her brother.

Jamie would die a martyr of memories he’d felt compelled to protect in their sanctity because he was good, noble, and a touch idealistic. She was not any of these things, being neither good nor evil, but rather a mixture that resulted in a neutral compound. She would survive and face the present and live on in the future, adapting and changing to the circumstances, no matter the cost. And though she would mourn the past, she would not dwell on it. She would not become stuck. She had to keep moving forward, not back, to make progress.

And like that, Sophie found herself accepting what needed to happen.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter is Nothing Left to Say/Rocks

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Rise of the Guardians belongs to DreamWorks, William Joyce and all other respective affiliates. I own nothing.
> 
> I had fun writing this so far. Please enjoy! More to come :)
> 
> Chapter name comes from the song Deep Down by Saosin
> 
> Title of story comes from the song Unity by Shinedown


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